Sleeping In
by Palatyne
Summary: Kyouya oversleeps and awakens into the Low Blood Pressure Demon Lord. The Host Club sends Haruhi to placate him but the encounter leaves both of them questioning what they really think and feel about each other. Updated, Epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

**Sleeping In**

by The Fairy Palatyne

Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Media and the anime to Bones, et.al.

Author's Note: I have not read the manga. So this is anime-based, post episode 26.

* * *

**Chapter One – The Peace Offering**

* * *

"Haruhi, you are the only one we can count on." said Kaoru. 

"But it's a Saturday, I'm not supposed to do Club duties." she intoned almost whiningly.

She had woken up to find all but one of the Host Club members at the door – each of them wearing an expression that could only be described as pleading.

A small hand tugged at her sleeve and as she turned, a huge pink stuffed bunny was practically smothering her face. "Ne, Haru-chan, we can't have fun if we're not complete!" came Hunny's baby voice.

"Haruhi, my daughter! We simply cannot let this day pass without going to the commoner's fair, and I especially want Kyouya to come because he missed the last one. It would be unfair for anyone to miss out on such an instructive trip!" Tamaki said theatrically, taking her hands for effect.

"Tamaki-sempai, the fair will go on for a few days more. Why don't we just go after school sometime next week?" she suggested firmly, snatching back her hands and backing away from the Host Club, her hand subtly making a move to close the door.

She wanted to spend _her_ weekend catching up on her studies. The past week had been full of activities for the Host Club. _They_ could afford to spend the entire day in a fair, but _she_ had to study or lose her scholarship.

And besides, fairs were nothing new to her or to most people. It wasn't even a large fair, just an outdoor expo of the neighborhood commerce group. Yet for the Host Club, it was a world wonder. She smiled inwardly in spite of herself. For all their sophistication, the Host Club members were still very much like children – let loose in a world of unfamiliar yet fascinating things.

She had wanted to go the fair herself, but her books and notes were already on her desk, waiting to be attended to.

"Onegai, Haru-chan! We can eat ice cream together, and strawberry cakes!" Hunny-sempai said pleadingly, looking at her with eyes that would have made any other girl swoon.

Her resolve was already diminishing. "_I am not a glutton! I am not a glutton!" _she chanted inwardly, even as thoughts of strawberries were filling her head.

"C'mon Haruhi, it's only a small favor!" Hikaru said brusquely.

Almost. They almost had her, yet she sensed something suspicious about their motives. There was excitement in their voices yet there was a slight tension in their expressions – as if they were hiding or pretending.

"If it's not that difficult, why don't you guys do it? Why'd you have to come all the way here?" she said testily.

All but Mori visibly flinched.

"Hmmmm…"she muttered tonelessly. She was now staring at each of them intently, waiting to see who would give in first. Hunny was hiding behind his stuffed bunny. Hikaru had his arms crossed and on his face an irritated expression. Kaoru on the other hand, was grinning mercilessly at Tamaki who looked extremely agitated.

"Well, you see Haruhi…"Tamaki's voice trailed away.

"Go on Tono, you'd better tell her what happened."

"Hai, Tama-chan!"

"Ano…..you see Haruhi…" Tamaki's voice was growing even fainter and he was slowly backing away from the group, moving closer and closer to the balcony railings. "Maybe, we should just go to the fair some other time…"

"Tamaki-kun woke up Kyoya-kun early this morning." said Mori-sempai's gravely, as if he were delivering a verdict.

"Eh? What about it?" She felt like she was missing a vital piece of information, something which no one seemed to have the guts to speak about.

"You see Haruhi, we call Kyouya, the Low Blood Pressure Demon Lord." came Kaoru's exasperated tone.

"The what?"

'The Low Blood Pressure Demon Lord!!" all but Mori-sempai said at once.

"He wakes up with a bad temper, not even Usa-chan can cheer him up. Ne, Takashi?"

"Aah."

"He's usually manageable. But Tono here overdid things again."

"Kaoru!" came Tamaki's strangled cry.

"Yeah, we weren't supposed to go there so early. But he insisted." Hikaru added, looking pointedly at Tamaki.

"Hai, Kyo-chan is a late riser so we should have come later!"

"Ahh."

"Mori-sempai! Hunny-sempai!" Tamaki was shaking and close to tears.

Ultimately, it was the twins who did all the explaining.

"Yep. We came into his room, and Tono here started raving about the fair and all –" Kaoru started.

"And he didn't notice that Kyoya-sempai was already awake and glaring at us." Hikaru interjected disgustedly.

"Yes. He seemed really calm. He just told us to leave. Of course, Tono here was not listening and he went on, even shaking Kyouya-sempai. Then all of a sudden Kyouya-sempai, he…" Kaoru paused, his expression hesitant.

"It was scary…" Hunny intoned.

"His eyes…" Tamaki's voice was even fainter.

"...he told us once more to leave, but we knew then he was serious. I've never seen him that angry before." Kaoru continued, while Hikaru nodded his assent.

There was silence, as all of but Mori wore expressions of mild horror on their faces, as if they were remembering something extremely unpleasant.

Haruhi simply stared at them. She, more than anyone else, knew them very well. Exaggeration, and theatrics were part of their conversational repertoire. She had learned to tolerate their quirks and even at times humor them, but at the moment, she was not in the mood to be so solicitous. Also, the "blood pressure demon lord" thing was just too absurd. Kyouya was the most level-headed member of the Host Club, the only person whom she can, with only some slight hesitation, deem completely sane.

_Even if he is opportunistic, ruthless and as he said, an egoist…or pretending to be one._

"OK." she said, trying her best not to sound patronizing. "But I still don't understand why I have to be the one to ask him. Why don't you just go back, apologize and ask him again?" she asked directly.

"We can't." said Hikaru.

"Try."

"No Haruhi, we _physically_ can't go anywhere near him now."

Haruhi simply raised an eyebrow and gave Kaoru a questioning look.

"We are banned from entering his suite. Actually, we are banned from entering the entire hotel complex. We found out when we tried to go back to ask him again." Kaoru explained with sigh.

"What?!" Now Haruhi was taken aback.

"Banned. Our faces are in their security database. We can't come within ten meters of the main hotel."

"Kyouya has treated us like fugitives, to be chased away by rabid dogs –"

"Wait." Haruhi interrupted Tamaki's lament, she was now very much surprised and confused. "What hotel? I thought they had a mansion?"

"He's not in their mansion." Kaoru answered.

"Why?"

"He wouldn't tell us. But never mind that! The point is, we can't go anywhere near him while he's in that building."

"Please Haruhi. I'm sure Kyo-chan didn't mean to ban us, it was the Low Blood Pressure Demon Lord and not him."

"Hotel security won't let us in, not even when we told them who we were." Hikaru exclaimed indignantly.

"You're the only one who's not banned. Will you do it Haruhi?"

Haruhi remained silent, hesitating to answer Kaoru's question. There were details in their story which intrigued her. Why was Kyouya living away from the Ootori mansion? From what she had observed so far, Kyouya did things calmly and with surety. He was the last one to do something rash.

_And whenever he did, it was always because he was provoked_, Haruhi mused, remembering how Kyouya hit his father's car with his bare fist.

Tamaki unexpectedly snapped out of his stupor and his voice was at once serious and thoughtful. "I think Kyouya is going through something. Maybe he is trying to figure something out."

Haruhi was slightly surprised by Tamaki's comment, and by the way he looked at her as he said it.

"He has been acting strange lately." Kaoru mused.

Haruhi remained silent, but inwardly agreed. Kyouya had been noticeably more serious the past few weeks. He seemed even more preoccupied than usual and often less tolerant of the idiocies of the other Host Club members.

And sometimes, she would catch him looking at her intently – or at least she thought she caught him looking, she could never be certain.

"Onegai, Haruhi. Will you go to him?" Kaoru pleaded.

It was then that she realized. A trivial thing like an invitation to the fair was not what they wished to extend to Kyouya – not an invitation, but an apology. It was their way.

_Considering Kyouya's personality, it must be the only way. _

They wanted to apologize to Kyouya, and _she_ was to be their messenger. A part of her was annoyed, but another part of her was slightly concerned about Kyouya as well.

_What do I do?_

She asked herself as she looked at the pleading, expectant faces of the Host Club members.

"I thought I'm done being the club dog…"she intoned exasperatedly, half-resigned to her task.

"A dozen strawberry cakes…"

"If you think you can bribe me with food –"

"A month's supply of tuna sushi!"

She groaned loudly. "All right, then. What's the address?"

* * *

"Will this hallway never end?" Haruhi mumbled to herself as she trudged along one of the silent halls of the posh, five-star hotel. Not even her footsteps could be heard as the floors were richly carpeted, the walls elegantly furnished and every several paces were decorated alcoves and paintings. 

Yet for all its grandeur, the hall was extremely quiet. No sounds could be heard from any of the rooms she passed. So unlike the building she and her father lived in – small, crowded and often noisy. She knew everyone in their building and even some few in their neighborhood. They were mostly middle-class people, parents, children and some singles – busy with their own hectic lives yet unfailingly amiable and always eager to help.

The place she was in, though essentially the same – a residential space – seemed more like a museum

"No wonder he can sleep in so late." She said a little louder. She saw no point in lowering her voice as she had seen not a single soul since coming up. She continued walking, looking closely at every door as there seemed to be very few and wondered exactly how large each unit was.

From within her jeans pocket she took out the key card given to her. She had wondered at how easily she was granted access to Kyouya's room. She had declined the other Host Club members' offers to drive her to the building, and instead asked them to wait at the fair. The building was only a train's ride away from her own neighborhood, but it was in a part of the city that was completely different from where she lived.

She had managed to find the hotel on her own. But how she got from the lobby to the hallway she was in at the moment was the result of a bizarre encounter.

She had wandered a while at the hotel lobby, unsure of what to do, until someone from the front desk approached her and asked for her name and purpose. She gave her name and asked if they could inform Kyouya Ootori that she was there.

Instead of answering her, she was shuffled into what looked like a small lounge behind the front desk area and was asked to wait. There was a flurry of activity, with several people making several calls and once or twice she thought she heard her own name being mentioned. Finally, the man who approached her came back and introduced himself as the security supervisor. She was informed that Kyouya was not answering their calls and it might be that he was still asleep.

"Demo, Fujioka-san, you might want to wake him up yourself?"

"Eh?" _What does that mean?_

Amidst her confusion she noticed that the man's demeanor had changed, he was suddenly very accommodating but there was a guarded tone to his voice, as if he were arranging a clandestine meeting.

"Please, this is a visitor key card for the bocchama's room, it will bypass the sensor. Let me escort you to his floor."

Slightly bewildered by the man's overly accommodating manner and incredulous at his suggestion, she let herself be shuffled around once more. The shiny plastic key card was pressed into her hand and she was escorted – practically dragged – to the elevators.

"Anou, are you sure I can just go to his room?" She ventured to ask a little later, as the elevator rose past the building's numerous floors.

"Of course you can, Fujioka-san." The man's answer, though polite, was too curt to be truthful. She very much doubted that it was standard protocol to let an unfamiliar visitor have direct access to a room.

"Demo, Tamaki-sempai and the others…." _Didn't these people just ban the other Host Club members?_

"Ah, but we have specific instructions regarding you, Fujioka-san."

"Eh? What-" But before she could ask any more questions, there was a soft chime as the elevator reached its destination. She automatically stepped out and she turned only to see the elevator doors already closing.

"Chotto matte!" she called out, but too late.

The strangeness of the encounter bothered her more than the man's apparent rudeness. But true to her practical nature, she simply proceeded to search for Kyouya's room.

But half an hour after she was unceremoniously abandoned, she was still looking for the right room.

Placing the key card back into her pocket, a sigh escaped her lips as the door she found turned out to be the wrong one. Her small favor to the host club was now turning into an exhausting chore. She was done berating herself for agreeing. She could only trudge on, and hope that the next door be the right one.

_Why, why did I let myself get into this?_

to be continued…

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Sleeping In**

by Palatyne

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Mediaand the anime to Bones, et.al.

**Author's Note: **The ratings of the first three or four chapters of this story are / will be lower than a T. However, succeeding chapters might be rated higher. Please be advised.

**Acknowledgements**: Thank you so much to all those who read the first chapter, especially those who gave very encouraging reviews.

* * *

**Chapter Two – Specific Instructions**

* * *

For a long time, the vast and cave-like office was silent, giving not the slightest hint of its lone occupant sitting imperially in an elegant chair behind an equally elegant table. 

Suddenly, there was a soft knocking sound followed shortly by the soft click and screech of an opening door and the shuffle of footsteps.

The newcomer approached and bowed low to the man behind the table, who seemed to have scarcely noticed his arrival.

"Mr. Chairman, we have just received word from our contact at the Maple Hotel." he announced before a protracted silence.

"And?"

"All is going well."

"Good. Be sure to send that man a token of our gratitude."

"Hai." His reply signaled his departure but there was an almost imperceptible hesitation in his stance.

The older man, more perceptive and less keen to observe trivial politesse, noticed the tension and immediately addressed it.

"Was there anything else?"

The attendant hesitated for a moment, then cautiously resumed in a somber tone. "Mr. Chairman, regarding the bocchama's current residence…"

"I sense your anxiety, but I am not overly concerned. He is not one to be persuaded _forcefully_. He has proven to me that he is one who makes his own decisions."

The older man continued after a pause. "I did not think him capable of such, but we both know of the feat he managed during the Festival…"

"Yes, Mr. Chairman…But what if he decides not to–" but the younger man was sharply interrupted.

"He will return. In his own terms and not without a few demands."

"I see, Mr. Chairman. He has contacted you –"

"No. But I know this."

"But, Mr. Chairman, we can't be certain that –"

"I know this because although he is not aware of it, we are very, very much alike."

Yoshio cast his most trusted attendant a dismissive nod. It was the end of their discussion. Swiftly and silently the man retreated, leaving the head of the Ootori Zaibatsu alone in the room once more.

* * *

Haruhi looked at the door's number plate and checked it with the numbers on the key card. She had found the right room but her success in finding it made her even more hesitant to continue. She began to wonder once more why she didn't just stay home. 

Taking a deep breath, she swiped the key card into its slot. There was a soft beep and a green light flashed, indicating granted access.

Turning the now accessible knob, she opened the door slightly. She peered into the room and saw what looked like a large living room. Unlike the classic opulence of the hallways, the room was more modern, the walls were almost bare and plain but still sleek, full of sharp angles.

Feeling a bit foolish to be peering into the room like a burglar, she steeled herself and walked across the threshold, closing the door firmly behind her.

She walked further inside and saw to her amazement a breathtaking sight. The entire wall area opposite the entrance door was made completely of transparent glass panels that stretched across the length of what looked like the living room. It was a giant window overlooking the world outside.

"Sugoi…"she couldn't help but say as she moved closer, marveling at the view of the city's skyline, she could see the tops of buildings, the roads below and even almost as far as the horizon.

She moved even closer to the glass wall, touching her hand to its smoothness.

_This must be what he wants. He was born and trained to be a leader of men, to be at the top of his game, to know, see and plan everything._

She admired Kyouya for his strength of will and foresight, his determination to conquer everything and even the very world and the very family that he was born into. Yet he dismissed himself as nothing but an egoist, who sought only benefits for himself.

However, she soon realized that despite all that he did and said to counter it, he was a genuinely kind person. This was what fascinated her most about him – he could be ruthless and kind, egoistic and altruistic, opportunistic and generous, cold and impassioned.

_He could be all the horrible things he says he is, but when I look into his eyes…_

She knew, from past experience, that her present train of thought led her to things that were uncertain and unknown to her, things she could not understand.

Abruptly she moved away from the glass wall and focused her mind once more to the task at hand. She looked around the room and saw that it was just one continuous rectangular area divided into several rooms.

At one end of the room there was an entryway which led to a dining area where further in she glimpsed a small kitchen. She noticed that for a hotel, it was sparsely furnished and thought that it must have been prepared according to Kyouya's specifications.

Turning to the other side of the room she saw what could be the bedroom. To her surprise she noticed that the door was slightly ajar. The sight of the partially opened door made her acutely aware of just how private it was.

She was momentarily beset by indecision. She realized that to turn back would be a waste of all her time and effort. But she was also aware that it was stretching the limits of propriety to barge into Kyouya's room, uninvited and alone – and it was the latter that most worried her.

Despite that, there was a growing interest that she could not shake off, a niggling curiosity that urged her not to leave.

Cautiously she walked toward the open bedroom door. She pushed it firmly and without any hesitation let herself in.

But the sight that greeted her soon made her regret her decision.

Sprawled on the large bed and tangled in a sea of white covers was Kyouya, with only a portion of the sheet covering below his waist.

Warmth immediately suffused her face.

It was certainly not the first time she saw any of the Host Club half-naked. Kyouya himself had told her that occasionally showing some skin was "well-received."

Yet there was something in the way he lay there, completely relaxed and at ease, in the privacy of his bedroom. He seemed so ruffled and unkempt, so different from his immaculate appearance on campus. Even during their outings and even in the most rugged of clothing he always looked pristine.

He was always calm and composed, but unlike Mori's taciturnity, Kyouya's calmness held an air of intensity. He looked calm on the outside, but she could always tell when his mind was racing. He was always thinking, always planning.

_But right now, he looks so peaceful._

His head was facing the other side of the room, away from her, toward the half-closed blinds which barely filtered the sunlight streaming into the room.

It took a while before Haruhi realized, to her mortification, that for several moments she had done nothing but stare at Kyouya's sleeping form.

Mentally berating herself, she refocused her mind and in an almost hushed voice called out,

"Kyouya-sempai?"

He did not stir, gave no indication at all that he heard her.

Several times she called out his name, each try louder than the previous, but he remained sprawled on the bed, still giving no sign that he had heard her.

"Mou…"she sighed, realizing that it was a futile task.

She decided to move closer to the bed. She could see wisps of his dark hair falling over his face, shielding it from her view.

Then she noticed that he was lying perfectly still.

Unnaturally still.

_Maybe there is something wrong with him! _

Suddenly, panic seized her, the fear of illness rooted in her by the death of her mother kicking in. She hurried towards the side of the bed nearest him and once more called out his name.

"Kyouya-sempai!"

She bent down, trying to see if he was breathing properly but his position made it difficult for her to tell.

Kneeling by the bed, she reached her arms to his shoulders to shake him. Once more she called out his name.

"Kyouya-sempai!"

There was still no response. He remained perfectly still, and for a moment she thought him to be lying lifeless on the bed.

She grabbed his wrist and searched for a pulse. Looking at her watch, she prepared to count, closing her eyes for concentration.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven… _

She continued counting, eyes still closed. By the ninetieth count she realized that there seemed to be nothing wrong with his pulse. She decided to check her watch to see how many seconds had elapsed.

It was then that her gaze met a pair of dark eyes fixed intently at her.

"So, what's the diagnosis?"

"K-Kyouya-sempai!"

* * *

**Author's note**: This chapter contains, a rather distracting (but I just couldn't resist adding it) allusion to another popular series. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Sleeping In**

by Palatyne

**Chapter Three – Asleep, Awake**

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Mediaand the anime to Bones, et.al. 

**Author's Note**: My rating predictions (see Chapter 2) for this story were erroneous and I apologize. In its present direction, there won't be any serious lemons in this story. To those who were expecting some, I'm really sorry.

However, I have re-rated the entire story (I had this unfounded notion that chapters were rated individually, really stupid) as the next chapter will be rated T (to be safe). I apologize for this lack of _foresight _and I promise to be more responsible in my future stories. To make up for the long gap between this and the previous chapter, I worked hard to complete and publish two chapters at once.

**Acknowledgements**: Thank you so much to all those who read and sent reviews. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate and value your support. I read all of them, and I really want to send a reply to each and every one, but I just don't have enough time. Still, thank you, thank you, thank you very much!

* * *

**Chapter Three – Asleep, Awake**

* * *

Kyouya Ootori was lying almost perfectly still on the large plain white-sheeted bed the hotel had specifically provided for his use. He lay languorous, his arms behind his head, his eyes closed as though asleep.

He had carefully chosen a hotel that had no known or hidden connections with his family – although he had to admit to himself that he could never be certain, as any company or individual not previously allied to the Ootori could be effortlessly persuaded, threatened or bribed.

Feuding with his father was not an easy task, but it was virtually a war of silence. Not once did he receive a call from his father or his attendants, not even his own brothers.

He was not by nature, a rebel. He had been the most obedient and the most determined one among his brothers – the stigma of being the youngest, the spare of the spare, forever hanging over him. He thought of his life and his future as one big challenge, a struggle to meet and go beyond the expectations of the people around him.

He did all, planned all, so that one day his father will speak to him not as an indispensable offspring but as a prized son and heir.

He was, in other words, the perfect son – before he finally realized that there was more to his life, than simply the Ootori fortune. He had been shown, by Tamaki, by the Host Club, that he was capable of creating a life and planning a future for himself.

And it was through his slow awakening, that he realized, there was something worth more than gaining his father's approval, than inheriting the family fortune, than becoming the heir which he had always thought to be his one goal, his stolen birthright.

There was friendship – with Tamaki, and the Host Club, and honesty, in him and with others.

There was freedom – from his father's control, from the shadow of his birth, from the expectations of his social status and his rigid upbringing.

Yet the most important realization of all, was inspired by the words of someone he had never expected to come into his life.

"_I think, Kyouya-sempai is very admirable."_

He had already planned a future devoid of any influence from his father. Yet out of respect for the man who raised and molded him into what he was and out of his own cautiousness, he remained at home and under his father's will, albeit reluctantly.

For a while he thought that his father understood his actions, that he was aware of his subtle act of emancipation. But his father's last order proved him wrong. Yoshio Ootori was still bent on subjecting all of his sons to his will.

The incident was one that burned into his memory, and the mere recollection of it was enough to stir up his anger.

* * *

Apart from the sound of clinking silverware and the subdued footsteps of the dinner servants, the large formal dining room of the Ootori mansion remained deafeningly silent. 

An Ootori family dinner was a formal affair, executed with pomp and ceremony that rivaled royal protocol. Kyouya and his brothers were educated and trained to display nothing less than perfect decorum in every occasion, all their movements and gestures performed with elegance and accuracy.

"Kyouya." came Yoshio Ootori's summon. It was his way of commanding his sons' attentions, to speak their names in a distinct tone.

"Hai, Otou-sama." Kyouya answered almost mechanically.

"It is time, I believe, to think of your future." It was a common opening line in their conversations. It was how the elder Ootori phrased his commands. Kyouya remained silent, as was the routine, waiting to hear more.

"That special student in your school, what was her name?" His tone was questioning, but all in the room knew that Yoshio Ootori didn't give out questions to which he didn't know the answers.

Kyouya was momentarily stunned but was quick to recover. His mind raced with thoughts of the possible motives of his father. His mind scanned his father's recent actions and his words, trying as quickly as he could to figure out his sudden interest in Haruhi.

_Haruhi._

Instantly, as if on cue, a suspicion came to him and he felt his anger rise.

"Kyouya, did you hear me?"

"Hai, Otou-sama. Her name is Fujioka Haruhi."

The elder Ootori's brows furrowed slightly at his son's delayed reply, but even so continued.

"Hmmm, Fujioka. Not connected to anyone important. But I hear she is extremely smart…"

Kyouya remained silent.

"…a little eccentric, judging by her penchant for male clothing. But not a serious condition, I hope."

"Her father is an _okama_." He offered, testing just how much his father knew.

"But I hear her mother was a lawyer."

_So he knows much more…_

It was a game that his father was a master at, playing with words, decoding messages that remained unspoken, gleaning information between the lines. Yet Kyouya was not a novice at it, he was after all, trained by a master.

"You _hear_? You seem to know so much about her, Otou-sama. Why are we discussing Ha-Fujioka-san?"

He had almost slipped, nearly referring to Haruhi by her given name. Doing so would give his father too much information. His anger was now rising dangerously, fueled by his suspicion. It took all his effort to keep focused.

_My anger would give him leverage... _

The suspicion was slowly taking shape. He knew his father would not bring up the subject of Haruhi for no reason. He had heard about her, he was certain. He probably knew as much as he did. After all, the events during the festival were thoroughly investigated by both the Ootori and Suou families.

_He had seen her himself… and how she defended me._

His thoughts were interrupted when finally the elder Ootori revealed his intent.

"Very well, I will not mince my words. I want Fujioka Haruhi to be your wife."

Kyouya swore inwardly.It was as he thought. He had suspected the moment his father mentioned Haruhi's name.

_You have controlled everything in my life, and now this…_

"You need not marry well. That is your brothers' duties. You need only to marry _right_, and I believe Fujioka Haruhi will be an asset to the Ootori.

He felt rage coursing through him, but to show any emotion, any hint of his disquiet would be dangerous. His father could use it against him.

_Or he could use it against her…against Haruhi…_

He tempered his rage and sought to learn more of his father's intention. Even as he sat calmly on his chair, with all the appearance of politely listening to his father, Kyouya Ootori's mind was racing, planning his next move. He decided to stall, to extend the conversation.

"Am I not too young for this, Otou-sama? I am still in high school."

The elder Ootori seemed to be once again irritated by the question but was not deterred.

"Of course, I am simply planning ahead. What I want you to do, is to make sure that Fujioka Haruhi goes to _no one else_."

There was a moment of tense silent, before finally, Kyouya replied.

"I see."

_I see that you wish to control my future completely…and even Haruhi's future._

"You do understand then?" Yoshio asked, expecting his son's compliance.

Summoning every ounce of calm left in him, Kyouya uttered his reply with perfect courtesy.

"I understand perfectly, Otou-sama."

The conversation was over, and once more the dinner table was in silence.

He had already decided to defy his father.

Three days later, he packed a suitcase full of clothes and left the Ootori mansion.

* * *

Remembering the last conversation with his father stirred his anger but it also helped him to focus. Although he was calmer now than he had been the past weeks, he felt not the slightest regret in leaving the Ootori mansion. 

His acquisition of the medical company - his father reneged promise – would enable him to be financially independent. Everything was going according to his plans.

Still, he could not deny that his sudden estrangement with his family was not affecting him. His newfound liberty was both exhilarating and exhausting, and it was taking its toll on the very things he valued – his relationship with the Host Club.

Less noticeable, perhaps, was his sudden penchant for staring at Haruhi. Of course, he had always been concerned with the doings of every member of the Club. But the past weeks, he had been almost incapable of controlling his impulse to look at Haruhi.

He was attracted to her, that he was always certain of. He knew she was a girl the moment he laid eyes on her – there was no mistaking it. He still could not understand how Tamaki and the others missed it.

He could never miss it. She looked more a girl to him than any other female in the entire Academy.

But every day he grew more and more aware of something else that was taking hold of him – and it nearly always led him to thoughts of Haruhi and uncertainty. It was something which made him want not just look at her, but to want her to look at him as well – to gaze into the warmth of her brown eyes.

He knew he had to force a measure of control. He filled his days with school work, and the rest of his time he spent looking into his medical company – he had withdrawn all managing rights from his father.

Still, in quite moments, he would think about her and slowly his uncertainty would give way to a quiet realization. He was slowly beginning to understand why his father's last order enraged him so much.

He was careful not to be negligent in his work with Club, but he knew that he was becoming ever more distant, always so occupied and busy.

So it was not a surprise to him that Tamaki and the rest of the club worked out an idiotic plan to get him to hang out with them. He just didn't expect them to try to ruin his sleep _again, _to go to another commoners' event

_Those idiots simply refuse to learn from past experience._

He was not to be trusted to act sanely when without sleep and he had to admit that he was barely conscious when he phoned the security office. He realized, though a little later, that banning them from the building was overkill. He only meant to scare them from trying again too soon, but his generous patronage of the hotel must have been the cause of the staff's overzealous protection of his privacy. Either that, or the hotel management simply wanted the Host Club off their backs.

Still, he felt guilty and he knew that none of them took kindly to their being banned from the hotel. He could already see Tamaki's stricken face, Hikaru and Kaoru's indignant anger, Hunny's childish tears and Mori's…expressionless face.

His guilt had led him to finally rise from the bed and take a bath. He had decided to find the Host Club and find some way to make amends – although he would never apologize. However, he had been halfway done with dressing up when he realized that it would be much more interesting to see what the Host Club would do.

He knew they wouldn't stay put for long, they will have found some way to get to him – or get back at him, if the twins were in charge. Whichever way it would turn out, it would be vastly interesting.

So for the past hour he simply lay on his bed, thinking and waiting.

Now, however, he was starting to think that he had been waiting for nothing.

He glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost noon. He could only assume that the Host Club had found no way to get into the building and had simply given up. Business matters were still waiting to be attended to, and he decided to waste no more time waiting.

He was almost off the bed when he heard the sound of footsteps echoing from outside his bedroom.

"Finally, those idiots." He muttered under his breath. Swiftly he moved back to the center of the bed and carefully propped himself into what he thought was a believable sleeping position. He lay perfectly still, eyes closed and he waited. He decided it would be more interesting for them to find him asleep once more.

To his surprise, he noticed that the footsteps were unhurried, soft and more importantly, it seemed to be that of only a single person. The sound of the footsteps ceased, and for a long while there was silence. Until once more the soft footsteps resumed and he heard them to be coming closer and closer to his room.

He heard his bedroom door swing open, and once more the soft footsteps, then another long pause.

Then he heard it, a soft, gentle and familiar sigh. His heart skipped a beat in surprise, yet he remained perfectly still, waiting to hear the familiar but certainly unexpected voice.

_Haruhi…_

"Kyouya-sempai?"

It was indeed Haruhi. He wondered at once if she had come with the Host Club, but she seemed to be alone.

Haruhi called out to him once more, but he remained still.

_Of all people…it had to be Haruhi…_

The thought of Haruhi being so close was stirring up things he had been trying to set aside. Yet, he felt energized and strangely excited. He wanted to see how Haruhi would react, what she would do. Somehow, the prospect of her reaching out to wake him was not at all unpleasant.

She called out to him again, in a louder voice, and again he lay still. To his amusement he heard her mutter "Mou" in exasperation. There was a pause, then once more there was the shuffle of footsteps and he realized she was moving closer to his bed. Then once more, she stopped.

He heard her take a sharp breath, almost a gasp, before she cried, "Kyouya-sempai!"

There was terror in her voice and he had almost shot up to see what was wrong, seized by his own panic at her cry, but he was stunned immobile by what Haruhi did next.

He heard a soft thud on the floor at his bedside and swiftly a pair of gentle hands pried an arm away from his body. Gentle fingers felt gingerly around his wrist, searching, he realized, for a pulse.

_She is checking to see if I am alive?_

Cautiously, he opened his eyes. He saw that Haruhi had closed her own eyes to concentrate on his pulse. Her brows were knit closely, reflecting her anxiety.

It was then that he realized just how close he was to Haruhi.

He could almost feel her soft breathing. He could see every detail of her face, her dark lashes pressed against her lower lid, the soft curl of hair behind her ears, the fringe over her forehead. Her lips were parted slightly, and he could see that she was breathing more heavily than normal.

He had not been this close to her for a long while and it unnerved him – he felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest and on the point where her fingers felt his pulse.

Her touch, the feel of his skin on his was burning him. He felt a sudden urge to reach his hand to touch her face, to smooth away her furrowed brows, to trace his fingers on her lips.

_Haruhi…_

Instantly he felt slight remorse over his trickery. The small hand which held his wrist gently, was trembling slightly.

_I have made her worry. _

Cursing himself he decided to stop his ruse and confront Haruhi. Yet he decided to be casual, and intoned his words in the laziest voice he could muster.

"So, what's the diagnosis?"

He watched as Haruhi's eyes flashed open and saw to his amusement, how her large brown eyes became even larger as she practically gasped his name. It took all his effort not to smile.

"K-Kyouya-sempai!"

She swiftly released his wrist, letting it drop on the bed, from which she had also managed to jump away from, causing her to lose her balance. The utterly shocked Haruhi fell gracelessly on the carpeted floor.

"What are you doing here, Haruhi?" He asked, raising himself up to a sitting position. He looked worriedly at Haruhi, somehow, he did not like the thought of her plunked on the floor like a rucksack.

"Well you see, Tamaki and –"

Suddenly, a more important thought crossed his mind.

"Wait. _How_ did you get _in here?" _

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

**Sleeping In**

by Palatyne

**Chapter Four – Merit and Pleasure**

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Mediaand the anime to Bones, et.al. 

**Author's Note:** This is the chapter which warranted the raising of the story's rating. _**Please be warned.**_

**Acknowledgements: ** Thank you so much to all the people who have read this story. To the faithful reviewers, thank you so much.

* * *

**Chapter Four – Merit and Pleasure**

* * *

Haruhi found herself trying to stem the tide of embarrassment that was threatening to devour her.

"Well you see…it's because there was this person downstairs –"

"Wait. Haruhi. Get up." He commanded, obviously bothered by her uncomfortable state. He moved toward the edge of the bed, reached his hand to grab her by the elbow, pulling her upright.

She looked around her to find someplace to sit but there was only the bed. Sitting herself on the edge, she wanted to place a respectable distance between her and Kyouya.

Her initial embarrassment was giving way to slight anger over Kyouya's trickery. There were no signs of disrupted sleep in his appearance. He looked to her, like someone who had been wide awake for quite awhile.

And to add to her chagrin, Kyouya seated himself at the bed's edge and moved closer to her.

"Now tell me again, why are you here?"

"The Host Club asked me, to ask _you_ to please go to the community expo with them." She answered.

"I see…" He replied after a moment of silence. "I thought I made it perfectly clear that I was refusing their invitation?"

"If you are referring to how you have banned them from this building, then yes, I believe it was perfectly clear."

She knew her acid retort was not lost on Kyouya. But to her surprise, there was amusement in his voice and his lips were faintly smiling.

"And so they sent you here?"

"I think, they want to apologize for what they did to you earlier." She declared crossly, irritated by his amused demeanor.

Their conversation was not turning the way it should. His nearness was making her anxious. It was a strange feeling that was stealing away her calm.

But she was not frantic because of Kyouya. It was something else – something that she could not pin down.

_I have to calm down …_

"I see…and you are delivering this apology…" Kyouya was now smirking unreservedly "that makes you…their peace offering?"

"A what?!"

"Peace offering. A gift of goodwill."

"I know that!" She snapped. "What I mean is, I am a person. And contrary to what the twins think, I'm not a toy and certainly not anyone's gift!"

Kyouya looked at her with the same amused expression. "No? Then you are a willing accomplice to all that they have done earlier?"

"No, that is not what I'm –"

"And as a Plan B they coerced you and sent you here?"

"I'm not part of any of their plans –"

"Or were they planning to use you to trick me into going to that fair?"

"Trick you?! You were the one who tricked me into thinking you were sick!" She almost shouted, her anger over his earlier deception, spilling uncontrollably.

"I did not trick you. You assumed that I was sick." He replied smilingly.

She turned away, too angry to face him.

Kyouya was once again mocking her and seemed to be trying his very best to anger her.

"So, did they bribe you with food? Offer to erase your debts?"

"Please stop insulting me." She snapped, tuning to look at him with her fiercest glare, her patience at an end.

"Then why are you here, Haruhi?

He was now looking directly at her, his dark eyes serious and questioning, his amused expression gone. He was looking at her as if he could read her thoughts and suddenly, her anger was giving way to her earlier anxiety and she was suddenly fearful that Kyouya could really read her mind.

She knew he was deliberately trying to goad her into anger, but there was something in the way he looked at her – the intensity of his gaze. His dark eyes, not shielded by his glasses, were wreaking havoc on her composure.

"I am here because….." Her words trailed away, her mind a riot of thoughts.

_Why am I here?_

_I came willingly. _

_What do I fear?_

She forced her mind to quiet and with the calmness born of a lifetime of taking charge, she finally spoke with the voice of composure which all who knew her admired.

"I am here because the Host Club asked me a favor and also, because I thought to relay their apology. But I see now that –."

"Or are you here, because you wanted to see me?"

Instantaneously her mind remembered her musings earlier in the living room, her unexplainable curiosity, her fascination with his sleeping form.

"Of course not!" Her answer was quick, vehement and forceful – and she regretted it. She felt the familiar warmth of mortification flood her cheeks – she had the inexplicable urge to flee, as if she were being cornered.

She knew then that she needed to get as far away from Kyouya as she could.

"I'm leaving now."

Haruhi rose from the bed swiftly but Kyouya was faster, grabbing her by the wrist to prevent her escape.

"No. You are not."

None too gently he pushed her to the bed and before Haruhi could summon a coherent thought, she was lying on her back looking up at Kyouya.

"Kyouya-sempai!"

She lay still, too startled to move, too confused to say much else. Kyouya was merely looking at her, burning her with his gaze.

_This again…_

Her heart was beating wildly. She could feel his weight above her, pinning her firmly. She was physically trapped by his body, without any way to escape.

Yet she could the warmth from his body surrounding her, making her feel strangely…safe. She was overwhelmed by his nearness, her thoughts in chaos, her senses attuned only to him – his warmth, his scent and his steady, piercing gaze and even the firm hold of his own hands upon hers.

"Haruhi," he whispered her name, his face moving so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

His face was set in a fiery expression she had seen before, the briefest flicker of it, on that one night at the seaside villa.

"Kyouya-sempai…" she managed to whisper, the rational part of her mind making one last stand, "I have told you before, there is no merit in…this."

He merely smiled at her words, his lips only a fraction away from her own.

"No merit, yes. But much, much pleasure."

He leaned down swiftly and kissed her.

As if struck by a blow she drew in a sharp breath, her body arching against his. She tried to part her lips to protest but instead he drew her parted lips into a deeper kiss, slanting his mouth over hers, his tongue gently but firmly probing into her. The contact sent a thrill of heat course through her, and she was suddenly all too aware of every place where their bodies touched.

His arms were braced against the bed, supporting his weight, his hands pinning hers. But one hand was now moving gently toward the side of her face, his thumb stroking her, coaxing her, urging her.

She felt all her energy, all her mind's objections seeping away, replaced by the warmth of Kyouya's body against hers, his hand upon her cheek, his lips upon hers. She felt herself slowly relinquishing control, slowly giving in.

_Kyouya…_

And against all reason, against all the alarm bells ringing in her mind, warning her of the dangers of her situation, in one moment of utter selfishness and insanity, her lips sought his and ever so carefully, she kissed him back.

to be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

**Sleeping In**

by Palatyne

**Chapter Five**

**Fight or Flight**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Mediaand the anime to Bones, et.al.

**Author's Note: **The story is nearing its end. It was not meant to be so short but I'm afraid I have to focus on something else for a while. Perhaps in another fic, I will continue their story. But for now, this is the third to the last chapter.

Thank you very much to all those who read and reviewed.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**Fight or Flight**

Haruhi could not remember anything at all – where she was, what she was doing and for one brief moment, even her own name. All her thoughts were directed to the sensations Kyouya wrought upon her.

His soft lips caressed her already tingling flesh, sending jolts of delight coursing through her. The firm and gentle way his tongue delved into her made her feel like he was eagerly probing a secret treasure. Even his hands caressed her, meandering across her body and burning every patch of skin they touched.

In one moment of insanity she responded to him, seeking him out with her lips.

Yet the moment she did so, he gave out a low moan. For a moment she thought he had paused, but soon he began to kiss her more fervently, his tongue delving deeper.

His caresses became more urgent and more frantic. Her heart raced with heightened excitement. It was as if a wave of heat had blazed through them. He felt his body push against her even more, sinking her deeper into mattress. She was almost breathless, yet she knew that even if she wanted to, she could not possibly stop.

She had never felt anything so distracting, so consuming and so utterly, mindlessly pleasurable.

It felt to her like it would never end, and for one moment she wished it were so - their lips locked in an eternal kiss, their bodies all but intertwined.

Suddenly, she felt his caresses became gentler, slower. She then felt cool air fan across her cheeks as Kyouya's soft lips gently left her, brushing her lips tenderly one last time before finally moving away.

It was over.

Haruhi lay on the bed, unable to move, her eyes locked with Kyouya's. She saw that he too was breathing heavily, his face was flushed and his eyes still blazing.

She was suddenly very conscious of where she was, the awkward position of her body and the fact that their bodies were still intimately close.

It was as if a veil had been lifted away and everything was clear – but it was also surprisingly grim and staid.

She was starting to feel his weight against her, something which she strangely did not feel before. She was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe – her chest heaving with every breath she took.

"Kyouya-sempai, I can't breathe."

Kyouya heard her plea. His brows furrowed at first, worry etched in his face. Belatedly he realized the cause of her discomfort and broke his gaze. He straightened himself and with careful movements, shifted to a sitting position beside her.

Haruhi did not feel the relief that she expected. Instead, she became acutely aware of how his body had felt against her, the warmth that surrounded her and the subsequent chill that swept through her as he moved away.

With what seemed to her like infinite slowness, she too sat up. She moved toward the edge of the bed, her back towards him.

She noticed that the blinds on the side of the room muted the strong rays of the midday sun coming from the outside. The full impact of what had just happened was slowly coming into light, although it was somehow still dimmed by the excitement that was slow to fade away.

_This should not have happened._

She remained silent and still, waiting for the return of her composure, waiting for her mind to regain control. Yet it was difficult, for her lips still quivered with the memory of his kiss and her skin still tingled from his touch.

"I will not say I'm sorry." Kyouya finally spoke.

A part of her brain registered his words and even expected him to say them – it was Kyouya-sempai, after all. Yet she was still too bewildered to reply. Her heart was still hammering in her chest and she feared that if she spoke, her voice would tremble. Steeling herself, she gave the only reply she could manage.

"Of course." She tried her best to pitch her voice evenly, trying not to reveal the turmoil within her.

"I kissed you because –"

"Because you wanted it, and you take what you want." She interrupted. Reason was slowly kicking in. Like a harsh light cast upon her she was slowly starting to feel that she had done something completely, absolutely wrong.

She felt the familiar pang of mortification and inwardly cursed her naïveté. Once again, she felt like she had been heedlessly drawn to a ploy. What embarrassed her even more was that she was too enthralled by the kiss to even realize what was happening. Her powerlessness and her inability to control her reactions both humiliated and angered her.

Yet strangely, she also felt a tinge of bitterness, a slight disappointment.

_Just another lesson to be learned, after all._

Coldly she tried to rebuke him. "I have learned that lesson long ago, Kyouya-sempai. It was not necessary to repeat it. And as I have told you then, there is really no merit in –"

"No." He said firmly. "I kissed you because _you_ wanted it."

Haruhi was stunned into silence. She turned sharply to face him only to see once more an expression of amusement on his face.

"I did what we both wanted." He was looking straight at her, his dark eyes boring into hers, daring her to correct him.

She felt her anger rise and before she realized what she was doing, she had raised her hand and slapped him.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the room. Her hand stung from the force of it, but she saw that he barely flinched. He simply stared at her, his eyes blazing with the unmistakable fire of anger. On one side of his pale face, a fiery red blotch was forming with the faint imprint of her hand.

Almost instantly she felt a slight tinge of remorse. She had hit him stronger than she intended. But she held her ground. She had been mocked by him before, but this time he was downright insulting. It was proof of immense conceit for him to claim that she wanted him to kiss her.

"I didn't want it! How dare you –"

"That's a lie." He said, a fierce anger lacing his words.

His words felt like a sharp knife piercing her already rattled mind. Her anger at his conceit seemed to have suddenly lost its significance.

Suddenly, his expression seemed to have calmed. He looked at her intently and in a quiet tone, he added.

"And _you_ kissed back."

She felt as if she had been dealt a fatal blow. The words were spoken quietly but it came to her like a blast of wind, knocking her out of balance, destroying what was left of her calm – and there was nothing she could do because they were undeniably true.

_I did._

She knew then that she needed to leave.

"I'm leaving."

Haruhi scrambled to rise from the bed, turning her face away from Kyouya – but almost instantly her wrist was caught in vice-like grip, preventing her escape.

"Look at me, Haruhi."

His voice was imperative and commanding but she noticed a slight tremor of something else.

She didn't want to look at him. Her mind and her thoughts were betraying her and she didn't trust herself to be composed for much longer. She was no coward, but she could not face what she could not understand.

Especially if the one thing she could not understand was her self – her thoughts, her emotions, her own wildly beating heart.

She fiercely tugged at her wrist but her action only served to make his grip stronger.

"Haruhi." His voice was more urgent.

_I can't look at you, I can't listen to you. _

_Not now._

"Onegai, Kyouya-sempai…"

Almost instantly his grip on her wrist loosened. The hand that held her so fiercely was swiftly withdrawn.

"Haruhi…"

She did not hear him at all. She heard nothing of the stricken voice that called out her name.

She all but ran from his bedroom, speeding past the living room and out into the hallway once more.

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

**Sleeping In**

by Palatyne

**Chapter Six**

**Musings on a Kiss**

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Mediaand the anime to Bones, et.al.

**Author's Note**: I sincerely apologize for the very, very long delay. My fanfiction writing had to be put on hold because of other responsibilities.

I have decided to add a few more chapters to this story. I realized that the ending I had already written was too abrupt. I'm hoping that the additional four to five chapters will make the ending more satisfying.

Thank you, thank you, thank you so much to all of you who have read and posted comments. I truly appreciate them and look forward to them every time.

Again I sincerely apologize for this long delay and I hope you enjoy this chapter and the others to come.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Musings on a Kiss**

Haruhi woke up only to feel as if she had not slept at all. Ironic, for it was the longest sleep she ever had in years. She knew she had slept in, the harsh glare of noon filtering through the light curtain fabric shielding her room.

Reluctantly she struggled to rise from the bed. Her arms and legs felt like lead, her eyes could barely stay open.

She felt as if she were carrying a great weight about her, making her slow to rise, slow to move. But there was no weight greater, than that which she felt in her heart. As she forced her body to wakefulness, the memory of the previous day which she had escaped in her sleep, came crashing back into her consciousness.

An entire night spent thinking and reliving every moment of the fateful encounter only served to make her feel worse.

She could not remember the last time she felt threatened enough to flee. She had always faced every challenge head-on and with little hesitation. But nothing in the sixteen years of her life could have prepared her for what had happened.

She had fled. Even now she felt a stab of humiliation. She could remember very little of her panicked flight out of the building. She headed straight for the nearest train station and decided to go to the one place she could calm down and think.

As soon as she got home she gave a curt call to Tamaki-sempai, who along with the rest of the Host Club had waited in a nearby restaurant, telling him that Kyouya simply refused to go. He had begun to protest but firmly and coldly she told him that she was not going to change her mind, and then promptly hung up.

She regretted her less than truthful words and her rudeness. Yet dismissing him firmly was the only way she could stop him from asking her any more question - not when she had no answers to give to the questions which plagued her.

She had racked her mind, delved into thoughts which she had not entertained before, probed feelings which before the incident seemed insignificant, impossible or even, unacceptable.

_Why did it happen?_

The answers which came to her were not the answers she wanted.

Summoning every ounce of her willpower she dragged herself from bed. Mechanically she went through all her morning rituals, her mind reluctant to face the long day ahead. Yet she trudged on, refusing to waste any more of her time.

Washed and ready she emerged from the bathroom and was greeted by her father's booming voice ringing cheerily from the dining area.

"Haruhi-chan, Ohayou!!"

She walked towards him and noticed that he was already dressed for work and food was already laid out on the table.

"Ohayou, Otousan…"

"Eh? What happened, did you stay up all night?" Ranka questioned. He looked slightly taken aback and Haruhi could only assume that it was because of her appearance.

"I…I was studying."

"Hmmm…" Ranka intoned in his unique way, a subtly questioning tone belied by the soothing baritone hum. "But you always wake up early, no matter how late you stay up…anyway, I made lunch."

"Arigatou, Otousan."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Ranka prodded.

"Hai. I overslept a little but I will be all right."

"Hmmmmm…" Ranka looked at her questioningly but did not say anything more.

Haruhi remained silent. Her father was perhaps one of the few people in the world who could truly see through her. Yet he was also the one person she wanted to keep her troubles from. Being silent was better than speaking, for her father could easily pick up clues from her speech.

For a few moments the two remained silent as Haruhi sat down and prepared herself for her meal.

"Itadakimasu!" She called out in the most cheerful voice she could muster.

Once more the table fell silent, with only the occasional clink of chopsticks hitting porcelain breaking the stillness. Ranka was looking at a sheaf of papers, seemingly preoccupied.

"By the way, one of your Host Club friends called this morning. Actually, he called several times."

"Eh?" She replied calmly, trying to conceal her curiosity.

_Could it be…?_

"I'm afraid I told him off after the tenth call." Ranka intoned, an exaggerated frown etched on his face.

"Who was it?"

"Ara…I forgot to ask."

From the way her father dismissed the caller, his exaggerated disinterest and his obvious attempt at hiding the caller's identity, Haruhi was almost certain who it had been. Only one Host Club member could arouse such antagonistic feelings in Ranka – Tamaki-sempai.

It was as expected. Her sudden refusal to join them and her curt call to him had probably alarmed him. It was simply his misfortune that his calls were answered by her father.

"Hmmmm…I hope it wasn't something important…" Ranka intoned remorsefully, but his expression showed the opposite.

Haruhi inwardly sighed. She could almost see Tamaki-sempai roosting in another lonely corner, his mood falling under the double weight of her and her father's dismissal.

"No. I don't think so." She assured her father. He knew all about the eccentricities and the overboard antics of the Host Club and in particular, Tamaki-sempai. Dismissing the call as another one of Tamaki-sempai's many lapses into the absurd, was the easiest way to skirt from the subject. She did not want to arouse any more of her father's curiosity.

Yet if it were someone else, her father would have, at the very least, _tried_ to wake her.

_If it were Kyouya…_

Quite suddenly her heart raced at the thought that perhaps Kyouya had tried to call her.

"Did anyone else call, Otousan?" she asked as casually as she could.

"I don't think so. But since that _one caller_ kept calling _every couple of minutes_, I doubt if anyone else came through." Ranka said with a show of great annoyance, the pointed reference to the caller made Haruhi all the more certain that it was indeed Tamaki-sempai.

Kyouya had not tried to call her, after all. She realized it was much better that he did not. She would not have known what to say to him or if she could even manage to utter a word.

Still she felt a small tinge of disappointment.

_He did not call…he did not do anything at all…_

He had not tried to chase her when she fled his room. For a moment, as she waited inside the descending elevator, panic struck her as she remembered how Kyouya had effortlessly made the hotel ban the other host club members from the building. He could just as easily prevent_her_ from getting out. But as she reached the ground floor it was obvious that her flight had gone unnoticed.

Haruhi berated herself for letting her thoughts stray once more into that fateful encounter. She resolved to end her musings and resume eating, but soon realized that her father was looking at her intently.

She had let her mind wander and her guard down.

"Otousan, nani?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Eh?" Haruhi feigned ignorance, trying to deflect her father's question.

"Why do you ask if there was someone else who called?"

"Nothing." She intoned dryly, her face impassive, keeping her hands busy with the motions of eating.

"Hmmmmmm...You know, your mother also said _"nothing"_ in that same tone." Ranka spoke without looking at her directly, but there was a knowing smile on his face. "And it was never just _nothing." _

Haruhi kept silent, to say anything then would betray her.

Exasperated by his daughter's silence, Ranka heaved an exaggerated sigh and looked pointedly at Haruhi's rice bowl.

"Well, at least you're still eating…so it can't be that bad."

Haruhi inwardly sighed in relief. She had always tried her very best not to worry her father, so she had kept her problems to herself and tried to solve them on her own. She never knew that such a dead giveaway existed. Since then, she had resolved to eat breakfast regardless of her state of mind.

And it was now that her resolve was sorely tested. Every mouthful passed her lips without her really tasting.

Soon Ranka rose from the table and prepared to leave. He rambled on about a special show that night at the club and that all the performers were asked to come in earlier to rehearse. He was obviously excited and expressed it with excessive whining and avowals of annoyance.

"Apparently some diplomat from abroad is coming to see some genuine Japanese entertainment, _okama_-style! We're supposed to perform a traditional dance and the fan thing takes forever to learn!"

Haruhi smiled lovingly at her father. Performing as a woman, despite his many complaints, was probably the one thing her father truly enjoyed.

"I know you can do it, Otousan."

"Arigatou, Haruhi-chan! And _please_ enjoy the weekend and by that I don't mean spending the entire day studying…"

"I will try, Otousan. Good luck tonight!"

"Ja ne!"

"Ja." Haruhi replied quietly as the apartment's door was shut and her father's hurried footsteps clattered away.

She set her rice bowl on the table, the motions of eating no longer necessary. For a while she simply sat, trying to think of what to do for the rest of the day. Studying would certainly take her mind off things – but the thought of doing school work only reminded her that in less than a day she would be at Ouran once more, with the Host Club.

She would not be able to look at him and not remember.

_Kyouya…_

She had wondered exactly what Kyouya was after. She had no idea what his intentions were, if he had any. He himself had admitted, there was no merit in it for him. She had considered all of his possible motives, even the most unpleasant possibilities.

Her rational mind told her that it could be that he was only after what men were said to be always after. Though she could not claim to be as worldly as Kyouya seemed to be, she knew what he meant by his words.

"_No merit, yes. But much, much pleasure."_

She was aware of the possibility that she might be nothing more than a novelty for him. She could be nothing more than a diversion for him, a little break from the more important things in his life.

Yet as she thought of this, she remembered the gentleness of his hands as he held her close to him. She remembered the way his eyes gazed upon her

In the all too brief moments that he had held her in his arms, she had never once felt afraid. She was never afraid of him, or of what he would do.

_I trusted him._

She trusted him, yielded and surrendered to him.

And even as she debated with herself about possibilities and intentions, the memory of his words rang clear in her mind.

"_I kissed you because you wanted it…I did what we both wanted."_

Through the maze of emotions and thoughts which she had tried to escape – she realized that he had been right.

_I did want it._

As to _why_ she did, she had no answers.

Yet she knew that even before she stepped into his apartment, and perhaps as soon as the Host Club asked her to go to him, she had feared that something would happen.

She remembered the frantic beating of her heart as she stepped into his bedroom, the feeling of anxiousness that attended her until the moment he took her into his arms – only then did her fear leave her.

She knew now what she had feared so much.

_I was afraid of myself…_

She should have known better, she should have fled as soon as she noticed how her heart raced, how her breath caught. She should have fled before he opened his eyes, and gazed back at her – stealing all sense and reason from her.

She should have fled the moment he said her name.

Even now she feared that perhaps, she would never be able to resist _him_.

_Kyouya._

It was the thought which had kept her awake all night. It was a thought which had rent all of her beliefs apart – as if all that she had ever thought about herself and about him had been erased and rewritten by their one encounter.

Never before had she thought that perhaps, he could be more.

Or that_she _could ever feel more.

She had come to Ouran to fulfill her dreams – to become a lawyer as her mother had been. She had never before thought of anything else that would come up. She had resolved not to let anything distract her, to not let anything drive her away from her goal.

_What do I do now?_

Haruhi heaved an audible sigh. She rose from the table and turned to her mother's shrine. Gently, she opened the doors to reveal the humble memento of a woman whose life and memory still lived strongly within her.

For a moment, like countless times before, she wondered how her life would have been had her mother lived. She wondered if she would have wanted her to become a lawyer or if she would even have approved of her attending Ouran.

As she looked at her mother's smiling face, she began to wonder what her mother would tell her to do, what her advice would be.

"Okasan, what should I do?" She asked loudly.

Yet there was only silence and her mother's silently smiling face. She knew this was one problem that no one else could solve.

She rose to the floor, determined that whatever decision she would make, she would stand firm.

Silently, she offered one last prayer to her mother's shrine, before gently and firmly closing it.

* * *

Kyouya stood behind the glass wall of the living room and watched the setting sun paint the sky a dozen shades of red.

He looked at his hand and remembered the warmth of the slender wrist he had held - the wrist that he trapped with his grip.

The plea that she uttered hours ago still echoed in his mind.

"_Onegai, Kyouya-sempai…"_

Shame and disgust coursed through him.

He had prided himself in his self-control, in his ability to look past his own desires, in the primacy of his reason over his emotions. Yet at that one instant he had let his desire rage unchecked.

Kyouya clenched his fist in silent anger. His eyes darted to a nearby coffee table. Gleaming with reflected light was the key card he had found hours earlier. As soon as he had seen it, he realized exactly how Haruhi was able to get into the room.

He fought the impulse to take the card and crush it with his hands. The only way she could have gotten it was if the head of hotel security himself gave it to her. He knew without a doubt what would prompt the man to commit such a breach of security – either a bribe or a threat.

His father's scheming had once more prevailed.

"Kyouya-san, are you sure you are okay?" The concerned voice of his sister echoed from the doorway of the kitchen, breaking his reverie.

"Hai, Fuyumi-nesan. I'm all right." His voice was mild, giving his sister no hint of the turmoil within him.

"Are you sure? You've been standing there for over half an hour now…"

"I was waiting for the sunset." He replied lamely.

"Oh, how romantic!!" Fuyumi tittered.

"How's the kitchen?" He asked with feigned interest, knowing that after several hours under his sister's ministrations, the kitchen was probably no longer functional.

"Oh, I just finished! I was just about to ask if you wanted some tea."

"Tea would be good. Arigatou, Fuyumi-nesan."

Kyouya watched as his sister bustled once more into the kitchen. Doing housework was something of a sport for Fuyumi, and a sure way of diverting her would be to let her practice.

He moved away from the window and moved to sit on a couch. His sister seemed to have noticed that all was not well and he did not want to cause her to be suspicious.

Fuyumi arrived an hour after Haruhi had left, and was phoned in by security like any ordinary guest. He took the opportunity to question the security person on the other line about the key card, but the man denied that such a thing happened. According to him, no person by the name of Fujioka was issued a card.

His father knew how to hide his tracks. Yet the entire thing screamed of his involvement – to lure Haruhi into his room, to deliberately place them in a compromising situation, it was one of the oldest tricks in the book – too old to be failsafe.

Perhaps his father simply wanted to anger him.

Or perhaps, he thought Haruhi was a fool.

Haruhi was no fool. She had proven to be one of the most perceptive and intelligent persons he knew. Yet she was still extremely naïve and even at times too sure of her trust in a person.

He felt that wholehearted trust in their kiss – she had surrendered herself to him, fully and completely.

Yet the way she begged him to release her tore at him. He had done the one thing that he had sworn never to do. He had used his strength as a man against her. He manipulated her into kissing him and he controlled her, prevented her escape.

_I did exactly what my father wanted me to do._

He had played into his father's hands, lured into the game and he hated himself for it.

"Tea's here!" His sister's voice broke into his thoughts. Fuyumi was coming towards the living area with a tea tray laden with a huge kettle, mismatched tea cups and several plates of cakes. The tray seemed to be swaying precariously in his sister's hands and he reached forward to help her.

"Daijoubu Kyouya-san, I can do this. Sit down" Fuyumi brushed him off and proceeded miraculously to set the tray safely on the table.

"Fuyumi-nesan, your skills are improving." He couldn't resist saying as he accepted the cup of tea his sister offered.

"Hontou? I've been practicing at home. Shido doesn't understand why I do it but he plays along anyway."

"Shido should be grateful to be served tea by you."

"You're teasing me!"

"No. For a lady like you to serve tea to an idiot like Shido is nothing less than saintly."

"Kyouya-san!" His sister looked at him warningly but her expression soon turned thoughtful.

"Shido is not an idiot. He's smart, responsible and kind, not to mention one of the best CEOs in the country. I'm grateful to marry such a man."

"You never knew him before Otousan arranged the engagement." Kyouya reminded her.

"Of course. That's how things are done. I know Otousan did his best to find a good husband for me."

"I'm sure he did." Kyouya said disdainfully, his anger at his father seeping out.

Yet as soon as he did, he regretted it. He had never before been so frank with his sister and he did not want to hurt her without cause.

"Gomen, Fuyumi-nesan. I didn't mean to offend you." He said as he set down his cup, his expression weary. His anger at himself and at his father was consuming him, threatening to unleash itself in all its cold fury.

"Kyouya-san, you are not okay." His sister said quietly, her eyes fixed concernedly on Kyouya.

Kyouya heaved a silent sigh.

Fuyumi set down her cup, looking quite uncertain.

"Kyouya-san, I know I'm not the best person to give advice…I know I always give you more trouble than help…"

"Onesan…" Kyouya was startled by the sudden turn in their conversation.

"I don't know what made you leave the mansion, what disagreement you had with Otousan. I won't force you to tell me, so don't worry – "

"Fuyumi-nesan, you don't have to –"

"However," his sister cut in firmly. "I want you to know that I'm here to support you, to help you in whatever way I can. Not just because I'm your sister."

Fuyumi paused for a moment, her eyes slowly looked away and Kyouya knew that she was fighting tears. He remained silent, knowing that to speak of it would wound her pride.

"I will support you because I know how it feels to be deprived of a chance to decide for myself."

Kyouya looked at his sister and saw clearly, the sadness which he had long ago suspected.

"Oh, but I'm all right now." His sister said with a wry smile. "I wasn't before. I blamed Otousan for everything. But the reality was that I was also partly to blame. I had let him decide everything, plan everything for me."

Fuyumi paused once more, then quite suddenly her solemn expression changed to that of blazing determination.

"So I will support you all the way! I'm proud of you, Kyouya-san! I know you've always felt resentful because you're the youngest son, but you're talented and smart and you will go a long way. Even without Otousan's help!"

Kyouya was startled by his sister's declaration. Yet he could not help but be moved. His sister had decided to come to his aid.

"I know that, Fuyumi-nesan. I have no intention of allowing myself to be controlled. I have long since decided to stop doing everything he commands." He assured her.

"Hai! That's right and I will support you in every way! I'm proud of you for deciding to leave the mansion and escape his control – "

"Leaving the mansion was a mistake." Kyouya cut in, halting his sister in mid-sentence. Fuyumi stared at him, not quite sure if she had heard him correctly.

Kyouya continued. "I left in anger and it was not a rational decision. I regret it now. Staying in the mansion would have been much more practical."

Fuyumi looked at her younger brother with an expression of utter confusion. "But I thought...I thought Otousan made you do something and you refused…that's why you left…"

"The truth is, Fuyumi-nesan, I don't exactly dislike what Otousan wants me to do."

"Eh?"

"What angered me was the way he still tried to control me….and someone else. I also resented his insinuations as to how I'm going to fulfill his wishes."

"What do you mean?"

Kyouya did not answer her. He remembered clearly what his father had said.

"…_make sure she goes to no one else…"_

If he knew well enough the twisted machinations of his father's mind, he was certain that his words were meant to tell him that he must succeed through any means necessary. He knew well enough what his father had in mind – there was one way to make marriage a most agreeable option. The contrived tryst that he had so cunningly orchestrated for them was proof that his father wanted him to use_every _possible means.

The thought of it angered him and drove him to all but sever all ties with his father. He feared that Haruhi would discover it. He knew she would not be manipulated, she would not be controlled. What his father had in mind would only drive her away – perhaps, forever.

And that was one outcome, he would not accept.

"Kyouya-san, I still don't understand…" Fuyumi intoned pleadingly.

Kyouya hesitated to tell her all. He did not want to deceive his sister, yet he had decided that the less she knew about the entire thing, the better it would be for her.

"Leaving the mansion was a mistake in one way but providence in another."

"What do you mean?"

"When I left the mansion, I realized something."

"And what was that?"

Turning to face his sister, with a wry smile he told her how he really felt about himself.

"I was a fool."

"Eh?"

Kyouya stood up, leaving a confused Fuyumi behind and walked towards the table where the key card lay. He picked it up and gripped it almost painfully in his hand.

He had prided himself in knowing everything he needed to know about something, of keeping track of even the most insignificant details of the most trivial things – yet he had missed seeing what should have been obvious right from the very start.

It was as if he had missed a large note scrawled across the pages of his notebook.

His reason told him that Haruhi Fujioka would give him nothing in the way of social, economic or political benefits. She did not have the right lineage and pedigree. She was of a social class completely beneath his. There was absolutely no reason for him to even consider her.

So he ignored her – or at least, he tried to.

During the festival, the one thing he thought he wanted above all else, the one thing that he directed all his energies, his skills and all that he ever learned was acquiring the company that his father cheated him of. He thought at that time that he would rather risk all that he had achieved than lose the medical company, the one thing he had devoted his whole life to inherit.

But even then, he should have known. He should have noticed that every time he looked up from his laptop there was only one person he wanted to see, one face he longed to look at. Even as he thought he had immersed his entire mind and body into that one task, there was still one person who made him pause and look, just to see if she was still there, if she was alright.

_Haruhi._

Even now, he had the most disturbing feeling that all he had ever done for the club was in one way or another directed towards keeping Haruhi in it. She would never be able to repay her debt, he would make it certain. For she had unknowingly taken from him something infinitely more valuable than even a million antique vases put together.

And he wanted something in return, nothing less than what she had of him. He would do everything and he would risk everything for it. Even if she denied him, he would not give up. He would woo her, pursue her, and persuade her – everything short of forcing or manipulating her.

The mere thought of pursuing her was sheer pleasure. He relished the challenge, even as he feared the consequences of his failure – that she would resist, that she would deny him the chance.

_I will not fail._

He knew what he had to do and the sooner he started, the better.

Turning to face his sister, Kyouya asked a question he had never thought he would ask.

"Fuyumi-nesan, do you know how to prepare a bento?"

* * *

To be continued… 


	7. Chapter 7

Sleeping In

**Sleeping In**

by Palatyne

**Chapter Seven**

**Two Mornings After**

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Mediaand the anime to Bones, et.al.

**Author's Note: **I know I couldn't apologize enough for the very long delay. I had a lot of difficulty writing this chapter, the current version is the sixth or seventh version I had written (and I'm still not completely satisfied). I also had to deal with other responsibilities and had to set aside the writing of this fic for several months.

Still, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you so much to all those who read and reviewed the previous chapter, I apologize again for the long wait.

**Update:**

The error on the pronouns have been corrected. I totally apologize for that. I wrote that paragraph last of all and I totally overlooked it. It was a very glaring mistake but will you forgive me if I tell you I was just as sleep-deprived as Kyouya when I wrote it? Thanks so much to all those who gave reviews. I promise to be more careful nextime.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Two Mornings After**

"Ootori-san, are you alright?"

Kyouya looked turned to the girl sitting next to him and subdued the urge to glower in reply.

"Daijoubu, Kawasaki-san." He politely replied, even managing a smile.

Mentally, he cursed.

Nothing was going according to his plan.

He had planned all night long and well into the early hours of morning. He had slept barely two hours when his alarm clocks rang and he willed himself to wake up – shocking his attendants who instinctively scampered out of his way, fearing for their lives.

Yet surprisingly he had woken with a fairly even temper. He was sleep-deprived and in acute pain, but all that he chose to ignore.

For this morning was significant. This morning he had decided to start his most important undertaking – and he would let nothing stand in his way.

Not even himself, and definitely not the person for whom all the hard work was for.

He knew her school schedule better than she did. And he knew too, that today she would be at Ouran earlier than usual to check the Music Room.

Being the most junior members of the club, she and the twins were assigned the post-weekend check of the Music Room – to make sure that everything was in order for the week ahead. This month was her turn.

He had devised the perfect plan – albeit not without a few risks. But all in all, he had been quite pleased with himself. He had everything accounted for, he had all the risks weighed and compensated for. It was a simple matter of placing himself strategically in her path and getting her alone – that second part of which he had planned with much interest. He had envisioned what would happen, scene by scene and mentally reviewed every word he had planned to say.

He was completely ready, waiting only for his plan to unfold and succeed.

But just when he thought he had chosen the perfect time, the earliest time, the time of the day with the least possibility of interference – he became the unwitting victim of what he could only described as an _ambush. _

"Ootori-san, what do you think?" The girl's shrill voice asked once more, breaking into his thoughts.

"Gomennasai Kawasaki-san, I did not quite hear your question." He replied apologetically.

"Mou, Ootori-san, you're not listening at all!" The girl pouted childishly, though he knew her to be a full year older than him. She was a senior and the ringleader of the threesome who all but waylaid him on his way to the Music Room.

He did not expect to meet anyone, and indeed the halls were all but empty when he arrived. The three girls came as if out of nowhere – all smiles, giggles and determined not to let him get away.

Unfortunately for him, Kawasaki Chigusa was a loyal and regular client of the Host Club.

She saw that he was on his way to the Music Room, and for her it only meant one thing: a very early hosting session.

There had been no way to refuse without being rude – and for a brief moment, he even considered it.

"I could not help but be distracted by your appearance, Kawasaki-san. There is something different about you." He offered smoothly, mustering a curious smile.

"Ootori-san, you're teasing!" The girl tittered, obviously pleased. "But now that you mentioned it, I did change my hairstyle." She added, flipping her hair for effect.

Kyouya sighed under his breath but managed to utter a compliment. Soon the girl continued her interrupted soliloquy. He let her trail on. There was nothing she could possibly say that would interest him. He smiled absently, feigning attention and nodding in agreement at every pause.

He was not the only who was bored stiff. The two other girls, whom he now guessed had only been forced to join in the scheme, were silent. They were freshmen and cousins to the older girl, though according to his records, their own families shared neither the prestige nor the wealth which the girl Kawasaki possessed. Their faces were dour as they looked at their cousin – it was obvious they bore no affection for her.

At least he was not alone in his suffering.

He had never felt any ill feeling towards any of the female clients of the Host Club. He treated them all with the same polite attentiveness, while making sure to make the most out of their patronage of the Club. Every once in a while he turned on his charm, though it was not a skill he particularly enjoyed. He left the pseudo-seduction to Tamaki and the others.

His slightly indifferent view of the clients allowed him to be patient with those whom even Mori-sempai would find irritating.

However, it was one thing to play host to an insipid and annoying client during official club hours – but to be ambushed and forced to entertain an insipid and annoying client outside of Club hours was downright infuriating.

But for clients to actually interfere – although unknowingly – with his plans was unforgivable. It took all of his self-control not to snap at them and demand that they get out of his sight.

Discreetly he glanced at his watch. Half an hour of what little time he had was already wasted with the most self-centered chatterbox in the world. His gaze wandered involuntarily towards the Music Room's main doors.

_Where is she?_

It was not in her nature to be tardy. In his numerous conversations with her father he had gleaned that she was an early riser, prompt and more than punctual. It was long past her scheduled time to be in the Music Room. Soon the halls would be filled with students who would accost her at every turn – one of the consequences of her newfound popularity.

Soon the other members of the Host Club would arrive as well. The twins were bound to meet her somewhere and from them there would be no escape. They might even decide to accompany her to the Music Room themselves.

However, worrying about it was useless. Even if she did arrive, it wouldn't matter anymore. Not when he himself was trapped.

His plan had failed before it even started.

Still he couldn't help but watch out for her arrival and his anticipation had nothing to do with his already-botched plan.

But all he could do was wait and endure the inane chatter around him in silence.

"Ootori-sempai, are the other Host Club members coming in early today too?" One of the two younger girls asked him.

"I don't think so Chiseki-san –"

He was suddenly interrupted by a loud screeching noise – the familiar sound of the Music Room's aged wooden doors being opened.

His view of the door was blocked by the settee facing him, but he had a good guess as to who it was.

"It's Haruhi-san!" The girl Chiseki cried.

His guess was confirmed.

She had finally arrived.

She did not seem to realize yet that he was there. Her view would be blocked as well.

He decided to wait for her to see him before greeting her.

"Ohayou, Chiseki-san." He heard her greet back uncertainly, her confusion evident. "I didn't realize there were people here. We are not usually open at this time. Guests are not allowed to come in before club hours."

He smiled slightly at her words. Despite intending to be polite, she still could not help but be too blunt.

"It's okay Haruhi-san, Ootori-sempai invited us!"

It was his cue.

She was already a few paces from the settee, and as Chiseki leaned away slightly, he came into her line of sight.

She all but froze in place. Her large, brown eyes widened in surprise.

"Ohayou, Haruhi." He smiled at her.

Her eyes blinked rapidly a few times. Her lips parted slightly, as if to say something.

"Kyouya…" She gasped.

He felt a sudden rush of pleasure at the sound of his name spoken so familiarly, bereft of its honorific.

He looked at her piercingly, his smile broadening.

But soon enough she flushed, her cheeks turning crimson and her eyes widening slightly in horror as she realized her mistake – and the intimacy it suggested.

"_Sempai. _Ohayou Gozaimasu." She added hurriedly, making up for her blunder with an excess of politeness.

"Ohayou Gozaimasu, _Haruhi_." He enunciated her name slowly, still smiling and his gaze on her unbroken. Though no one else seemed to have noticed her blunder, he wanted her to know that _he_ did.

And that he was absolutely pleased by it.

She flushed even more at his scrutiny and she frowned slightly. But before she could do anything an overexcited shriek filled the room.

"Haruhi-san, please, please sit with us! I'm so glad you're here!"

"Hai, arigatou." She smiled politely, but her measured movements showed her reluctance. It was discouraged for a host to refuse an invitation outright, especially when there was no reason to decline.

Haruhi moved to join the two other girls on the settee opposite him. Instantly Chiseki engaged her in an animated conversation. He only then remembered, hinted at by the familiar way she spoke to Haruhi, that they were classmates.

The other girl on the other hand, who was too insignificant for her name to be noted by him, seemed to suddenly turn into stone.

"Ah Haruhi-san, this is my cousin Kanzaki Soseki. She's a freshman to from class D. She's been looking forward to meeting you for a long, long time!" Chiseki fired away seemingly without drawing breath.

"Hajimemashite Soseki-san. I'm glad you've decided to visit us." Haruhi greeted amiably, but the girl only flushed in reply.

"She's never been with a Host before! But you're her absolute favorite! So she's speechless!"

The girl yelped faintly as she realized she was being teased.

"Oh, but the other Hosts are so much better than me. I'm just as new to this as you are." Haruhi said humbly and sincerely. This was her secret, the key to her being a "natural rookie."

"I think Haruhi-san that you will receive a lot of designations from Soseki from now on!" Chiseki teased. She was obviously goading her cousin to speak.

"Arigatou. That would help me a lot. But I hope we will be friends too, Soseki-san?" She smiled directly at the silent girl who gave only an almost imperceptible nod, her eyes still looking resolutely at the floor.

"Mou, Soseki! Can't you at least say one word?" Chiseki berated laughingly, causing her cousin to shrink from the conversation even more.

Kyouya was so caught up with watching their conversation that he was too late to see the pair of narrowed eyes cast in his direction.

He had completely forgotten the one other person in the room – his client. It was the worst thing a host could do.

He was about to appease her, but she suddenly turned to the others and her eyes narrowed into slits.

He knew the look well. He had always been very astute when it came to other people's thoughts and emotions – and a full year dealing with girls like Kawasaki taught him a great deal about just how cruel some of them could be.

"Soseki, if you insist on acting like a fool, I suggest you leave. You are embarrassing me."

The harsh words silenced the conversation, and the girl Soseki's head seemed to all but sink to the floor.

"Gomennasai…" The girl's voice trembled, close to tears.

"Chigusa-san…" The other cousin exclaimed, her face a mask of fury and fear, but it was obvious that she would not contradict her cousin openly.

Her attention was now focused on another person. She was now looking directly at Haruhi.

"We have not been introduced."

Kyouya cringed inwardly. He had been so distracted that he completely overlooked the foremost rule of courtesy.

"We have never met, _sempai._" Haruhi's voice was cool, but defiant. She was frowning, obviously displeased at the girl's cruel words to her own cousin.

He saw Chigusa's face contort in anger.

"How unmannered, and you call yourself a Host –"

"Kawasaki-san, this is Fujioka Haruhi, our newest member. Haruhi, this is Kawasaki Chigusa from class 3-B." He cut in firmly, furrowing his brows in irritation.

He knew the reason for the girl's hostility to Haruhi – she was punishing her for taking the limelight and for holding _his_ attention.

Seeing the change in his expression Kawasaki turned to him swiftly, her own expression changed to that of curiosity, all traces of anger gone.

"I wonder why I've never noticed him before," She said sweetly. "These _other_ members of the Host Club are sometimes just so…_forgettable._"

"Haruhi-san is not forgettable." Came the faint voice of Soseki.

For a moment everyone was shocked to hear her speak.

"That's right." Chiseki added, her own courage rekindled.

"Soseki-san…" Haruhi tried to intercede. It was now obvious that the conversation was plunging into open hostility – and she was at the heart of it.

Kawasaki smiled derisively. "That is your opinion. I believe Ootori-san is the best Host. All the others are just mere annoyances."

"That's not true! Haruhi is a favorite Host! We sometimes wish he'd spend less time in the Club and more time with his classmates!"

"Chiseki-san…" Haruhi muttered pleadingly.

"If you desire his company so much, maybe you should tell him to quit from the Club." She smiled a fake, spiteful smile at her cousin. "I'm sure he won't be missed."

Then she turned to look directly to Haruhi, her eyes full of malice. But her words were addressed to him.

"I suppose you were simply being kind, Ootori-san, to let someone of his kind in the Host Club."

The insult was not lost on Haruhi, he saw her meet the other girl's gaze with equal fury.

She was not one to lose her temper so easily. This was just another mean client, and he had seen her handle each one with unequaled grace – even ones far worse than Kawasaki.

But this time her eyes were blazing.

Yet she remained silent. He knew exactly what she was thinking: that it was not her place to oppose a senior, let alone a client. She could do nothing to defend herself.

He was suddenly furious.

"Kawasaki-san." he intoned icily. "I'm afraid I do not agree with you. Haruhi is one our most popular hosts, second only to Tamaki."

Under his reprimanding gaze the senior girl withered. She was suddenly sputtering, shocked by his sudden change in demeanor, shaken by his obvious anger.

"Ootori-san, I didn't mean that –"

He ignored her. He turned to the other girls and in a much warmer voice he added,

"Haruhi is invaluable to our club. He is our natural-rookie. We simply won't survive without him."

He addressed everyone in the room. "As vice-president, it's imperative for me to make sure he stays."

Then he turned to Haruhi.

For a moment it was as if there was no one else in the room.

"I simply won't let him go."

He saw the anger that had burned in her eyes disappear, replaced by an expression of utter shock, which was then followed by a flash of realization as his words finally hit her.

She blushed.

He smiled.

But soon he realized it was the wrong thing to do.

She rose swiftly from the settee.

"I think...I should…get us some tea." She addressed the suggestion to him as fellow host, but she did not meet his eyes.

"Haruhi…"

"I hear you serve your kind of coffee here, the commoner's kind. You should serve that." Kawasaki called out derisively, recovering from her earlier defeat.

But Haruhi did not even acknowledge her, let alone dodge the insult. She was already walking away.

She was walking away from him.

Again.

Kyouya cursed under his breath, uncaring if he was heard. He had completely ruined a plan that he could have salvaged.

Now he was back to where he started.

_Strike one._

* * *

Haruhi breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned weakly against the closed door of one of the Music Room's several storerooms.

This one had been modified to serve the specific needs of the Host Club. It was now equipped with marble-topped counters, a silver-bowl sink and a state-of-art kitchen range. There was also a custom-built pantry for the many cakes and pastries which Hunny-sempai consumed in vast quantities. Close by were a matching set of antique cabinets where the expensive tea sets were displayed and stored.

All in all it was a well-stocked and well-equipped kitchen – and during her brief tenure as the Host Club's _dog_, it had been her workplace.

Haruhi willed herself to calm down, breathing in slowly and deeply. She was deeply mortified with herself. She had acted so foolishly. She should not have walked out on them.

Well, she didn't exactly walk out. She had graciously offered to get them refreshments.

But for one moment she had thought of turning away and walking out without a word.

Fortunately she had realized in time that she was being completely absurd.

And fortunately for her, apart from being rude and cruel, Kawasaki Chigusa was apparently also thirsty - providing the perfect opportunity for her escape.

_Why did he say that?_

Kyouya's words shocked her so much that she forgot all about her anger. Once more he had said something that was totally unexpected. She was certain that everyone saw her reaction to it – even now the burning warmth was yet to leave her face.

She had more than once been at the receiving end of a girl's hostility – even dressing as a boy had not spared her. It was not something that disturbed her too much as the emotions behind the hostility were often all too obvious. There was no point in retaliation. She did not enjoy making enemies and it was often easiest to just smile and pretend that nothing had happened.

Quite suddenly the image of Kyouya smiling at Kawasaki Chigusa came unbidden into her mind.

The strange anger once more broke the surface.

She forced herself to stillness.

There was no reason for her to be angry, absolutely no reason. He was a host, and Chigusa, a client. Sure she was irritating and mean to her cousins, tactless and totally self-centered, and not to mention intellectually-challenged but it was not for them as hosts to judge.

She too was a host, just like Kyouya. She would be smiling at Kawasaki Chigusa too, if she were designated to her.

But the thought of being pleasant to Chigusa was not pleasant at all.

Yet Kyouya was talking to her and smiling at her like she was the wittiest person in Japan.

She tried to rein in an anger she could not understand. She moved towards the antique cabinets to start looking for a tea set to use. She took out a blue, floral-patterned antique Wedgwood set. When in doubt, she always chose the plainest sets and the rest of the Club in particular the twins, regularly laughed at her lack of taste.

But this time, she chose the Wedgwood because it was the nearest she could reach.

She placed each cup carefully on a tray.

She set the tray by the sink.

She paused.

It hit her.

It finally hit her.

Instantly all her anger seeped away. What came in its wake was an intense feeling of embarrassment.

It was so easy for her to recognize the particular emotion in other people. She had seen it flash in the eyes and echo in the voice of many of the clients they entertained. She herself was a victim of it during her very first day as a host and from then on she thought it to be the most recognizable emotion of all.

But she wasn't so quick to see it in herself.

Her anger had only one utterly embarrassing cause.

She could not even bear to think of it.

She simply stood there, staring at the tea set, confronted with the one emotion she thought she understood but had never actually felt before.

_Jealousy._

She didn't hear the soft click of the storeroom door as it opened.

"Haruhi."

If she were not already startled into stillness by her realization, his voice would've sent her heart leaping out of her chest.

But she was now beyond embarrassment.

"Kyouya-sempai, do you need anything?" She asked as calmly as she could, hoping he would not notice the tremor in her voice.

She did not dare turn to face him. Instead she reached up to a cupboard, pretending to look for something.

"I came to see if everything's okay–"

"I'm fine. I'm looking for the instant coffee." She cut in firmly, still not looking at him, busying herself with opening each one of the dozen or so glass jars she had found.

"Haruhi?"

She pretended not to hear him.

"Haruhi."

She continued to rummage, this time moving to another cupboard.

"Haruhi, look at me."

"Kyouya-sempai, I need to find the coffee –"

"It's right in front of you."

Finally she turned to face him but kept her eyes low. He was pointing at the familiar jar of black powder that was sitting on the counter, in plain view and mere inches from her.

"Oh." She muttered.

Careful not to look at him, she reached for the jar. But he was reaching for it at the same time.

Their hands brushed.

She felt a shock course through her. Quickly she pulled away, nearly dropping the jar of coffee in the process.

She turned away from him, needing to calm herself. She tried focusing all her attention to the task at hand. She spooned coffee unto the cups and added water as fast as she could.

Then she started stirring like her very life depended on it.

"There is really no need to serve them that. They will soon leave."

"Oh but we can't disappoint Kawasaki-sempai…"

"That girl is a spoiled brat." He said disgustedly.

"Kyouya-sempai!" Haruhi exclaimed, surprised at his blatant badmouthing of a client.

"She does not even drink coffee. She was merely being nuisance."

It was so like him to be so reproachful of a client even when he had just been playing host to that same client. It was a side of him that perhaps very few people have seen.

But to her he had always been honest and frank. He said it was because there was no merit in putting on a performance whenever he was with her. She was not someone he needed to impress or dazzle with his show of perfect manners and excellent breeding.

To her he would always be honest and real.

Something warm was blossoming in her chest. Her mind was straying back to the very thoughts she wanted to avoid. She stirred even more vigorously, refocusing her thoughts on that one movement. She knew that to stop was to have nothing else to occupy her – nothing else to take her mind away.

"But… she's still a guest and we're the hosts so…" She reasoned.

"Playing host to them was not my idea. They ambushed me on the way here." He sounded genuinely irritated.

"What were you doing here so early?" She asked suddenly curious.

"I was hoping to run into you."

The spoon she was stirring with hit the inside of the cup with such force, it emitted a loud, unpleasant ringing sound.

"Haruhi… " he continued.

But she couldn't let him. They were heading to a conversation she was not ready to have.

"Kyouya-sempai we really shouldn't keep them waiting. The coffee's ready."

In her rush to take the tray, she underestimated its weight. Her arms bucked and the teacups wobbled precariously as her attempt to lift the tray failed.

She managed to shove half of the tray back on the counter, but the sudden movement caused a teacup to finally lose balance.

"Oh no!" She cried, as she attempted to catch the falling cup.

"Haruhi!"

A loud crashing noise filled the room as the exquisite cup shattered into pieces.

It was only then that she realized that a good portion of the cup's contents had spilled onto her right hand.

She felt herself being pulled towards the sink and suddenly she felt cold water running down her hand.

"Sempai!" she started.

Kyouya held her hand gently but firmly under the running water. His face was set in a grim expression, and his eyes were sharp, almost angry.

Despite the cool water, she was acutely aware of a warm, burning sensation that had nothing to do with the tea that had scalded her skin.

"Kyouya-sempai, it's all right." She protested, trying to pull free.

He ignored her.

She looked down and saw the shattered mess of what was once a very rare and very expensive teacup.

"Gomennasai…the Wedgwood…" She could not help but mutter.

"Never mind that."

"Demo…its part of a set –"

"Then we'll destroy the rest! Then they'd be perfectly matched!" He snapped angrily.

Haruhi was startled by the anger in his voice.

Wordlessly he took her hand from the water and with his free hand deftly pulled a towel from the rack by the sink.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, as he dried her hand gently with the towel.

"No."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not. I'm fine. I don't think it's burned at all."

He didn't look like he believed her. He took her hand into both of his and looked closely.

"There seems to be no burns." He muttered.

"I told you."

"You might still need to see a doctor."

He was still looking at her hand, turning it over.

"Where did you learn that?"

"It's basic first aid Haruhi, even commoner schools teach that." He replied tersely, but she saw that saw he was smirking.

"I know how to give first aid. But you look like you know exactly what to look for. Like you were a doctor…"

Haruhi stopped herself from saying more. Kyouya was still looking at her hand, but there was a strange expression on his face.

"You say the most interesting things, Haruhi." He said quietly, his hands still holding hers.

She was starting be much too aware of the warmth of his hands, and the throbbing pulse at her wrist.

He remained silent, seemingly still examining her hands.

But his fingers were gliding across her skin slowly, leisurely. She tried not to feel the sensations, the tiny shocks dancing where their skin touched – and how this made her heart beat even faster.

"I guess this adds up to my debt." She said unthinkingly, not knowing how else to break the ice.

Kyouya looked at her with a look of sheer incredulity on his face.

"Is that what you were thinking of?" His voice was strangely rough.

"It's an expensive cup …" She stammered, startled by his expression.

"You could have been severely burned yet you worry about your debt?" He spoke quietly, as if he was trying to keep himself in check.

"The coffee wasn't that hot." She reasoned lamely.

Kyouya did not reply. His brows were knit closely. He seemed distracted by something, a thought that had crossed his mind. She took advantage of the moment to try to pull her hand free.

"Arigatou, Kyouya-sempai. I am perfectly all right now."

But he did not let go. He held her hand, and as he did he looked at her.

His face was calm, but his eyes pierced her.

"Haruhi, are you really that uncomfortable with me?"

"Of course not. Why should I be?" She answered too fast, a knee-jerk answer.

Once more she tried to pull her hand free.

But he held fast, holding firmly.

"You have every reason to be. Unless you've completely forgotten what happened."

She didn't need to ask him to know what he was referring to.

How could she possibly forget?

It was taking all her control not to think about it every single second. She had summoned all her will to keep from reliving every moment of it.

How could she forget when his very presence brought back every sensation, every emotion she had felt that fateful morning?

_How could I possibly forget?!_

Yet she could not say it. She could only glare at him, trying mightily to pull away from his grasp.

"Haruhi, if you keep on avoiding me. This will never work." He said softly, almost as if to himself.

"What are you talking about?" She snapped, more irritated than curious. "And will you please let me go, Kyouya-sempai?"

"Never."

His spoke calmly. But he spoke with such determination that it stunned her.

It was as if he was making a vow.

There was a long pause, they simply stood there with their hands welded strangely together – each waiting for the other to speak first.

"Are you afraid me?" He spoke first, the corners of his mouth tilting into a smile.

"No. I'm not." She tried to sound indifferent.

But she was bewildered, more confused than she had ever been.

"Then there's no reason for you to run away from me," With a smile he added, "– again."

She felt a warm, traitorous blush creep into her cheeks.

"I was not –"

"I won't hurt you, Haruhi."

The words startled her. For a moment she could not think of anything to say.

She was not ready for this. This was not how she had decided to things to go on from that morning. She had resolved to go on as if nothing had happened. After all, there was absolutely no merit to be had from what had happened – for both of them!

She had hoped, even expected that he would ignore what had happened.

Yet she knew his words to be true.

"I know…I know that." She spoke despite herself.

"Haruhi – "

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed from outside the room. Next came the muffled sound of a sweet lilting voice from just behind the door.

"Cakes! I want to eat cakes!"

"It's Hunny-sempai!" Haruhi gasped.

But before Haruhi could move away from Kyouya, the door to the hidden kitchen flew open.

"I want to eat cakes!!" Hunny-sempai all but shouted from Mori-sempai's shoulders. It took them a few seconds to notice they were not alone.

"Kyo-chan!" Hunny exclaimed, surprise in his voice. "I didn't know we were opening early today?"

"Ohayou, Hunny-sempai, Mori-sempai." Kyouya greeted politely.

"Eh….Haru-chan? You're here too!" Hunny squealed in delight as he saw her. Swiftly his eyes turned to Kyouya, then to her once more.

"O-ohayou, Hunny-sempai…M-m-mori-sempai." Haruhi stuttered. She had managed to tug her hands free from Kyouya before anyone could see but they were still standing too close to each other.

"Is it Haru-chan's turn to check the Music Room?" Hunny-sempai asked, his gaze still moving alternately from her to Kyouya

"H-hai." She muttered weakly. Her heart was hammering wildly. She felt as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn't.

Kyouya on the other hand, managed to move discreetly away from her, placing a respectable distance between them.

"Haru-chan, daijoubu? Your face is all red!"

"Eh?" Haruhi reached a hand to her face almost involuntarily.

"Maybe you have a fever!!"

"No, I…I'm –"

Haruhi groaned under her breath. Hunny-sempai's scrutiny was only making her flush even more.

"Haruhi is fine, Hunny-sempai. It's this room, it's too warm." Kyouya intoned smoothly.

"Hmmmmmm….." It was the most innocent sound in the world, but somehow the lilting voice had an edge of doubt. "Demo, demo, what are _you_ doing here so early Kyou-chan?"

Hunny-sempai asked in his usual childish voice, yet he was looking at Kyouya intently, and for a moment he didn't look like a child at all.

"Kyou-chan never comes in this early, ne Takashi?" He prodded some more.

"Ah." Mori-sempai replied blankly, but his inexpressive eyes were also trained on Kyouya.

Haruhi was starting to feel uncomfortable. She could feel suspicion in the air, waiting only for someone to voice it out.

Kyouya, however, seemed unperturbed.

"I noticed last week that we were running low on cakes and pastries. I decided to come in early to check if we still have supplies for the week. As it turns out, we might have to ration them."

Kyouya's words seemed harmless and he spoke them with not a hint of emotion.

But he was right on target.

All at once Hunny-sempai's face was contorted with anxiety, his lips quivering.

"Mitsukuni…" Mori-sempai whispered apprehensively.

"…rations …" Hunny whispered.

Hunny-sempai's attention was now effectively distracted, but at the cost of what would probably be a very, very horrible crying jag.

She had to thank Kyouya for that.

_Or maybe not._

Either way, now was the perfect time for her to leave.

"Anou, sempai…I have to go to class now. See you later."

She was careful not to look at Kyouya as she left.

Once more, she was running away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sleeping In**

**by Palatyne**

**Chapter Eight**

**The O-bento**

Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Mediaand the anime to Bones, .

Author's Note: First of all, I cannot apologize enough for the very long break in-between this chapter and the previous one. So many things happen the past years/months that I had to cope with and after that there was my own life to fix. So I sincerely apologize for this very, very, long (though not entirely unforgiveable?) delay.

Second, and more importantly, I cannot thank you all enough for still being patient and still reading and reviewing.

I hope you like this one.

*********************************************************************************************************************

**Chapter Eight**

**The O-bento**

Haruhi watched patiently as the Hitaachin twins once more went through their daily lunchtime routine.

Hikaru sat with his legs on a desk, lazily playing with a new mobile phone by alternately tossing it into the air and catching it. She mentally cringed at each toss, knowing full well that the phone probably cost more than a year's worth of her allowance.

"Come on, Haruhi! The prize for this game is this new phone. It's not even out in the market yet, they gave our mother a few samples to match her new line."

"No thank you."

"If you don't want it then I guess I'll just have to throw it away."

"It's your phone so you can do whatever you want with it." She said sourly – displeased at the idea of such wastefulness but not displeased enough to give into one of their games.

If her obvious irritation bothered them, they didn't say anything. Yet she caught the questioning glances they exchanged.

It had become a ritual of sorts for the twins to spend the first few minutes of the lunch hour bothering her with challenges or games. Most days they simply tried to persuade her to eat at the cafeteria with the rest of the Host Club. Today, despite her troubled mind, was no exception.

"This is boring, Haruhi, why don't you eat at the cafeteria with us?" Hikaru whined, predictably.

"I can't afford it."

"I will pay."

"No thank you."

"So you're going to let us starve here?" Kaoru asked evenly.

"I didn't ask you to be here."

"You could at least show us your o-bento."

"No." The last time she did they dissected the box like it was something from an alien planet and both marveled and laughed at the "commoner food" inside it.

"We won't laugh this time, promise."

"No."

Hikaru sighed loudly and resorted to tossing the phone even higher into air. She usually waited until they grew hungry enough to have to leave her and head for the cafeteria themselves, before opening her o-bento. That way she could eat in peace. She passed the time by reviewing the notes she took of the previous class.

"Haruhi, you never really told us what happened that day." It was Kaoru who broke the lengthening silence.

"Eh?" She remarked innocently, her eyes on her notes. She had counted on them being too distractible to notice the change in her demeanor these past few days. It worked for Tamaki and Hikaru, but she had always known Kaoru to notice much more than he let on.

"When we sent you to Kyouya-sempai's hotel, what happened then?" Kaoru prodded.

"I already explained to Tamaki-sempai, I thought he already told you."

"That Kyouya-sempai told you that he still wouldn't go and that you left after that? Yes, he told us that."

"That's right." She knew the less she said of the matter, the less likely she would reveal anything.

"That's it? That's what happened? He didn't turn into the Demon Lord in front of you or called the security after you?" Kaoru regarded her fixedly, making her wary.

"No."

"How strange…" He replied casually, but his eyes were still on her, as if waiting for her to say anything more.

"Nani, Kaoru?" Hikaru asked, suddenly aware of the strange turn in the conversation, taking in Kaoru's thoughtful expression.

"I was expecting him to get back at us after what we did, but he didn't."

"What do you call banning us from the hotel?" Hikaru scoffed.

"Still, I was expecting some other retaliation on his part. He could've used the Club to punish us, increase our designations like he usually does. But he didn't. That's a bit unusual for him, don't you think?" Kaoru mused loudly.

"Unusual for whom, Kaoru?" Came a familiar voice.

"Speaking of the devil." Hikaru muttered.

It was Kyouya himself, walking towards them from the doorway. He was carrying a large paper bag which he set gently on an unoccupied right in front of Hikaru.

"Kyouya-sempai, what are you doing here?" Kaoru asked, none too politely.

"Hikaru, Kaoru, I need you both to be at the cafeteria right now. I have a designation for you there."

"Eh?! It's our lunch break we're not supposed to be doing any hosting." Hikaru protested.

"Two very special guests just arrived this morning after classes started. They are student observers from another school and they will spend several days here at Ouran."

She raised her eyes slightly to glance as Kyouya took out the now-familiar file case which she knew was filled with dossier-like papers on every student of Ouran. She had no doubt that she herself had a file there but had since avoided even considering what was written on it. He was now scanning the page, oblivious to the impending outburst.

"We don't want to go." Hikaru proclaimed defiantly.

Kaoru on the other hand regarded Kyouya with a slight look of suspicion. "I think we met our quota for this week Kyouya-sempai. If you were planning to increase it you should've told us."

"I understand that Kaoru, but this is not about your quota. This is about the many payments that were made for the damages you incurred to school and private property during the Festival." Kyouya intoned smoothly.

"What?" Hikaru gasped indignantly.

Kyouya smiled a mirthless smile at the twins. "You seem to have forgotten that there is still the cost of the restoration of the irreparably damaged 18th century carriage that was loaned to us by the Equestrian Museum. There is also the treatment for the injuries of the two thoroughbred stallions loaned to us by the Equestrian Club. They had to be flown abroad for stress therapy...hmmm, that cost the Club quite a lot."

"Eh!?"

"And there is also the matter of the complete destruction of the pumpkin patch maintained by the Gardening Club. Kasanoda-kun is quite…_insistent_ that we pay for the repairs." Kyouya was now scribbling notes, unperturbed by the twins' protests.

"Hey, I broke my arm on that patch! They should be paying me!" Hikaru cried.

"Yes, I am aware of that. But I'm afraid your broken arm is not payment enough for all the damages _you _made."

"Don't they have insurance for that?" Kaoru questioned shrewdly.

"Insurance doesn't cover deliberately using the carriage in a race against a sports car."

Hikaru opened his mouth to protest, but Kaoru cut him off.

"Send Tamaki then. He can handle them." Kaoru suggested all too calmly.

"My investigation suggests that these clients are particularly interested in _brotherly love._" Kyouya replied easily.

"Really?" Kaoru asked, not without a hint of sarcasm. "Just me and Hikaru?"

"Ideally."

"I think Haruhi should handle this. She drove the carriage, she should be the one paying for it." Hikaru blurted out, no longer bothering to hide his annoyance.

She would have protested just as violently to Hikaru's comment, if not for the fact that she could sense something was up. There was something about the way Kyouya insisted that they leave that bothered her.

"I assure you Kaoru, that debt has already been added to all her other debts. But I split the total cost among the three of you, since you were all involved." Once more, Kyouya had a reply ready. "Of course, if you do not want this designation, I can't force you."

"No, we don't want it." Hikaru retorted.

"It's just as well…" Kyouya sighed empathically as he closed his notebook. "The _brotherly love _act is not selling so well these days anyway. With Hikaru injured you have not had a lot of designations."

Anyone who was paying enough attention could see that it was another one of Kyouya Ootori's tricks. It was all too obvious.

But the expression of righteous anger on Hikaru's face left no doubt as to its success.

"_Not selling so well_?!"

Kyouya's voice echoed with compassion. "I understand perfectly if you think you can't _handle_ the clients, Hikaru."

"What?!" Hikaru practically spat the word.

Kaoru on the other hand looked torn between being just as cross as Hikaru and standing his ground against Kyouya's obvious scheming.

Yet he could only entreat weakly to his twin. "Hikaru, we shouldn't."

"The Hitaachin twins not selling well?! Don't make me laugh!" Hikaru sneered, oblivious to his twin's protests.

"I'm afraid Hikaru, the numbers are against you."

There was a pause as Hikaru face registered a range of emotions.

But it was obvious what was about to happen next.

"C'mon Kaoru!"

"Hikaru!" Kaoru cried out, but in vain. Hikaru was rushing past him out the room and presumably straight to the cafeteria.

Kaoru cast a suspicious backward glance at Kyouya before running after his twin. Kyouya Ootori had won the round.

"_Shadow King_." Haruhi could only mutter as she watched the twins rush out of the classroom.

Then she watched as swiftly and seemingly with very little effort Kyouya moved a nearby table and slid it right across her own – carelessly he pulled a chair and sat right across from her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm eating here."

"Why?"

"It's our lunch break."

"You eat at the cafeteria."

"Today I'm eating here."

She was about to object when she saw him slowly take out a cloth-wrapped bundle from the large paper bag he had set down. From its wrapping, she instantly recognized what it was.

An o-bento.

"Is that…yours?"

"Do you think I stole it?" He asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Of course not! It's just…I've never seen you with an o-bento before." She replied tactfully.

She bit back saying that it was more likely that he stole a bento than him actually bringing one from home.

"You're thinking perhaps I terrorized an unfortunate freshman and demanded that he give his lunch." He was now smirking at her.

_He really does read minds!_

"My sister made this for me. She thinks it's a novelty."

"Hontou ka?" Haruhi was genuinely surprised. "I didn't know you had a sister, is she here at Ouran?"

"No, she graduated many years ago. She's married now."

"I see."

She watched as Kyouya placed the bento onto the table. It was wrapped in what looked like a genuine silk cloth, but even she could see that it was knotted haphazardly. He struggled for a few seconds to unwrap it, before finally deciding to just shrug the box out of the cloth.

At first glance the bento looked pretty ordinary, but as she looked closely she could see that it was made of real wood, black lacquer painted with beautiful marshland scenery.

"I believe it's an antique, a wedding gift to my grandmother."

She knew Kyouya had an eye for such things, but even she could tell that it was a masterpiece. "It's amazing."

"But possibly hiding horrors within."

"Eh?"

Kyouya smiled slightly. "My sister is not known for her culinary skills…"

Slowly he removed the bento's top cover.

Haruhi bit back a gasp.

The bento that was so beautiful on the outside indeed hid a disaster within.

On the largest compartment of the bento were three giant strips of what looked like a whitish-yellowish blob sitting on a bed of soggy grayish colored rice. All around the blobs were wire-thin strips of what were probably vegetables but looked more like art paper that met a shredder. On two smaller compartments were an assortment of thinly sliced pieces of food shaped into animals – or at least that's what she thought they were shaped like.

"I don't think Fuyumi-nesan realized I need the food to be edible." Kyouya said quietly, still staring at the bento.

"It's not so bad." Haruhi intoned, herself staring at the three blobs, trying to figure out what they were.

"Let's see." Kyouya rummaged through the cloth wrapper and found a pair of black wooden chopsticks.

Cautiously he picked up one of the three whitish blobs.

"I'm not quite sure what this is…tempura?" He asked, raising his chopsticks to eye-level.

"No I think that's…"

But before they could figure out what it was, the whitish blob slowly began to slip from the chopsticks, disintegrating into clumps of more whitish stuff before falling wetly back into the bento, leaving the red-orange bit of prawn hanging from Kyouya's chopsticks.

"So it _is_ tempura." He said evenly.

She didn't know if it was because of the look of calm disgust on Kyouya's face, the way he said the words, the way he stared at the prawn in his chopsticks like he was keeping himself from just dumping it all in the trash or just the utter absurdity of being with Kyouya Ootori – in her classroom, at lunchtime – inspecting an o-bento from hell.

But before she could stop herself she let out a laugh.

Her laughter met with a startled look on his face.

"Gomen, I didn't mean to laugh at you." She said after a few moments, still half-laughingly. "It doesn't look that bad, really. It's a bit soggy, probably because she covered it before she let some of the steam out."

Kyouya was now looking at her with calm interest, prawn and chopsticks forgotten.

Then it happened.

He smiled at her.

In all the time she had known him he had seen him give every kind of smile to every kind of girl that came through the doors of the Music Room.

But he had never seen her smile at anyone the way he was smiling at her at that instant. For a second she was stunned, unsure of what to make of what she was seeing.

"I haven't seen you laugh like that in a while." He finally said.

She felt the now-familiar blush creep into her face and suddenly, all thoughts of hilarity left her.

"Why are you here, Kyouya-sempai?" She asked.

If her sudden boldness surprised him, he did not show it. Instead he replied to her as calmly as ever.

"I wanted to have lunch."

"In my classroom?"

"With you, Haruhi."

"Why?" She asked again, she felt her brows furrowing together with an emotion she could not yet place.

"Why not? Is that so difficult to imagine?"

The true answer was a resounding 'yes', but she could never win an argument with Kyouya. He was far too witty, far too blunt. It unnerved her, this facet of his character that he rarely showed. She knew then that if she were brave enough to ask the difficult questions, she would get all the answers she needed. He would not lie.

And perhaps, that was precisely what she did not want to know.

She decided to let the matter rest.

"They are probably finding this strange." Small talk was not one of her strong points.

"What is?" He asked, looking genuinely confused.

"I don't think any of them have ever seen you eat outside the cafeteria before, let alone see you eat from an o-bento." She explained.

"Where I spend my lunch hour is my business."

"Still, this is not normal."

"Is this uncomfortable for you?"

"No." She answered automatically.

"You don't lie very well."

"You never fail to remind me." She sighed.

"I understand that in commoner school life, eating lunch together is seen as a sign of a romantic relationship." There was amusement in his voice.

_Where did that come from?_

"So they say." She intoned flatly, hiding her surprise.

"Perhaps you are worried that others would see our eating together as something else?"

"I am not worried about that all." She answered honestly, there were other things she was worried about.

Like the fact that despite their unnerving exchange earlier, somehow his presence was not as unwelcome as she had expected it to be.

She was more worried about why all of a sudden she felt that eating lunch with him was somehow perfectly all right.

"Good." He smiled his teasing smile. "Because you are after all, at least in their eyes, a boy. To them, this is nothing but lunch between a _sempai _and a _kouhai_."

"Exactly."

"Of course, they can always interpret this the other way."

"What do you mean?"

"That we _are_ having a romantic relationship."

"What?!" She sputtered.

He smirked at her. "Why do you think The Host Club is so popular?"

She was caught off-guard by his words. For some reason there was a running joke of this theme in the Host Club. She didn't completely understand what it meant.

"Okay." She replied flatly, feigning understanding.

"That's our selling-point." He smiled broadly.

"Rich people and their idle lives." She mumbled under her breath, hoping to end the strange conversation by keeping quite.

Then a sudden thought crossed her mind.

"Wait! Are you…are you starting a new act?" She gasped.

It made sense to her. It was the one answer to her doubts about his motives. It was the kind of ingenious but drastic plan that he could come up with.

She looked at him expectantly.

He simply stared back, a look of astonishment replacing the smile on his face.

"I don't think I heard you correctly." He replied haltingly, as if he was unsure of what to say.

"For the club. Are you trying to…to…turn _us_ into an act?"

"_Us_?"

"You - you said earlier that the twins weren't doing so well with their designations…and we do have a lot of debts…so this must be your plan…"

Her words trailed off into silence as she saw his expression change from surprise to bewilderment.

"You think that's what this is all about? You think I'm creating a new _attraction?_" He asked, an edge irritation lacing his words.

"Are you?" She answered, defensively.

For a moment he said nothing. For moments more a tense silence stretched between them. She saw his face once more take on a mask of calm.

Then he raised his hand to his glasses seemingly to adjust them as was his habit, but instead he took them from his eyes completely and laid them on the desk.

He looked straight at her, holding his gaze until finally he spoke quietly.

"The only thing I'm after, is you."

She heard the sincerity in his voice, in the tone she barely heard him use anywhere else, to anyone else. He was looking at her again with that peculiar blazing expression. It was as if they were once more in that sun-streamed bedroom, away from the entire world, with only each other and the kiss they shared.

"Kyouya-sempai, I don't understand you at all." She whispered, more to herself than to him.

"Haruhi." He sighed exasperatedly, taking his glasses from the desk and putting them on again, obscuring his eyes. Slowly but efficiently he started packing up his o-bento.

She made no protest as she watched him prepare to leave. She was still taking in what he had said. She felt a strange urge in her to say something, to say anything in reply. But she could not find the words.

As he stood up to leave, he looked at her once more and smiled.

"At least this time, you didn't run away."

to be continued…


	9. Chapter 9

**Sleeping In**

by** Palatyne**

**Chapter Nine**

**Stalemate **

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Mediaand the anime to Bones, .

**Author's Note**: I apologize for the delay. Thank you so much to all those who read and gave reviews. I would like to apologize for not being able to reply to each one as I really don't have the time. But please know that I do read them all and I'm very grateful for them.

A very short one, sort of a transition piece to the next (and final) chapters. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Kyouya walked the streets of the unfamiliar neighborhood as if he had been doing such a thing all his life – or at least that's how he felt. He had never been out of a car whenever there was a need to travel through such places: 'commoner neighborhoods' as some people of his class would call them. What he knew of them was rife with stereotypes, of medium-rise buildings within which Tokyo's middle-income populace lived in varying degrees of gloom and misery.

Surprisingly enough, as he walked the street leading to the building where the Fujiokas lived, it was strangely empty, save for a few odd cars and people hurriedly rushing past him. The street may be empty yet from within most of the houses he passed he could hear the sounds of television, music, chatter and laughter. It was the weekend after all, and people were enjoying it in the comfort of their homes and with their families.

"How fascinating." He muttered, but with less sarcasm than he felt was due. It was unexpectedly not as bad as he thought it would be.

Indeed, the past weeks had been full of the unexpected.

The o-bento plan was a marginal success. He had managed to spend over an hour with Haruhi without her accidentally getting injured, without him kissing her senseless and more importantly, without her running away from him.

Several times in the last two weeks he had managed to get the twins out of the way so he could spend the lunch hour with her. He had belatedly realized how horribly 'common' a tactic it was – like something straight out of a manga. If he had any wit left he would laugh at himself.

If only it continued to be successful, he would laugh at himself everyday.

But it had not.

The past two weeks had been all about spending as much time with her (and with her alone) as possible. He tried his best but could only do so much without arousing the suspicion of the others. He did everything short of walking her to and from her classroom each day.

To no avail.

Certainly, Haruhi no longer avoided him. For a while it seemed to him that everything had gone back to normal. Too normal. She acted as if nothing significant had happened to them.

On the one hand he was relieved that she no longer avoided him like the plague. On the other hand, she was no warmer to him than she was with any other member of the Host Club.

And she still had a look in her eyes, the same one he saw in her during that lunch. The same puzzled expression whenever she was with him, like she was solving something. Then as if checking herself, she would revert to looking at him with her usual nonchalance, her usual half-disinterested self.

It infuriated him. It was a maddening situation, a veritable impasse.

His reaction was to pursue her even further – or as 'further' as he could manage under the circumstances. He thought he was being discreet in his suit.

But he was wrong, someone was bound to notice. And someone unexpected did notice.

It was during a busy Friday for the Host Club. He had gone into the Music Room, after having searched the classrooms in vain for Haruhi.

The rest of the hosts were in the gardens assembled in their makeshift tent-city, for the theme that week was _Arabian Nights_. It was for him, the tail-end of a chaotic week. He had managed to import several hundred sacks of fine, desert sand from his contacts abroad, but not without much haggling and difficulty through customs.

He made the mistake of leaving the rest of the trappings for the twins and Tamaki to arrange. As usual, everything was over-the-top and over-budget. Several camels and a pair of tamed leopards were even brought in, causing a furor among the students of Ouran. His efforts at haggling for the sand had been wasted.

Tamaki had dressed himself as the Persian king and predictably, he had wanted Haruhi to dress as Scheherazade. He persuaded, cajoled her to no end. She refused and stormed off into the campus buildings.

He went in search of her. But not after berating Tamaki slightly which left him in his trademark guilt-induced catatonic state.

He reached the Music Room. At first he thought no one else was in as it was dim, the lights all turned-off. But as he was turning towards the door, a voice he heard so rarely that it was almost unfamiliar echoed in the room:

"She is not here."

He turned to see Mori-_sempai_ walking out of the pantry, a tray laden with pastries on his hands.

Belatedly he remembered that Hunny-sempai had nearly thrown a fit in the gardens. He did not like the no-sugar pastries the caterer prepared for the occasion. He had fidgeted and frowned until all the girls around him were nearly fainting. Fortunately, Mori-_sempai_ offered to get him some of his favorite strawberry cakes – which explained his presence in the Music Room, but not his words.

"Who is?" He asked his senior, confused but already suspicious.

"Haruhi. She came here but left right away."

"I see. But I wasn't looking for her." He replied evenly, not a hint of evasion in his voice.

"You've been around her a lot lately." Mori-_sempai_ remarked impassively, and then wordlessly he turned towards the door and out into the hallway.

It was a while before he realized the gravity of what had transpired between them. Mori-_sempai_'s remark could have meant a lot of things, or none at all. Whatever he meant, his words made it clear that his pursuit of Haruhi was not going unnoticed.

He remembered the words he said to Haruhi during that first lunch. He had all but confessed to her. He had never been more honest or more earnest in his life. He felt then as if he had bared his soul.

Yet obviously, it still was not enough. Haruhi was either terribly naïve to the point of irrationality or terribly naïve to believe that she could feign a lack of awareness forever.

After the encounter with Mori-sempai he realized that there was nothing much he could do at Ouran. If he wanted to things to move accordingly, as per his plans, he needed to raise the stakes. If discretion was a necessity within Ouran, outside it was not.

It was Ranka who gave him the break he needed. He was still not certain how much or how little the man knew about his intentions. He had certainly never indicated suspicion. If anything, he was as accommodating to him as ever.

It was during one of his regular calls to him, calls which were mostly Ranka asking about Haruhi's activities in school. He had sensed early on just how protective the older man was, but also how aware he was of Haruhi's fierce independence. It seemed to Kyouya that Ranka dealt with it through a strange mix of cunning and feigned ignorance.

As he listened to the older man's chatter he discovered an opportunity he could not miss. He had tried to sound as nonchalantly as possible, casually offering his help. If Ranka suspected anything, he did not speak of it.

Either way, he was grateful.

So now to his current location, smack in the middle of commoner territory without a car or bodyguards – though knowing them, they were probably perched with binoculars in a building nearby, training their sights on his every movement.

On his arm was an envelope filled with useless Club-related documents – his props.

He already knew his way around the building. He reached the Fujiokas' door, and within moments often the doorbell ringing he heard the scuffle of feet from within, followed by muffled footsteps and movement against the door.

A moment of silence, then the door all but flew open.

He met her obvious fury with a friendly, innocent smile.

"Ohayou, Haruhi."

"Kyouya-sempai, what are you doing here?" She asked with ill-concealed irritation.

Mentally, he heaved a sigh.

He had a long way to go.

_to be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

**Sleeping In**

by Palatyne

**Chapter Ten**

**Progress**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, Lala, English editions to Viz Media and the anime to Bones, .

**Author's Note**: Once more I begin with apologies for the delay. This is a rather long chapter, and I hope you enjoy it. I am really looking forward to finally finishing this story after so long.

I do hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always I am grateful for the reviews. They are really inspiring.

* * *

Haruhi cleared the dining table of its contents hurriedly, unmindful of the guest still sitting there. He was, after all, unexpected and uninvited.

"_Arigatou_." Kyouya muttered graciously, even as she practically snatched the teacup from his hands.

She was irritated and did not care to hide it.

She deposited the faux chinaware into the kitchen sink with a forcefulness that caused a loud clatter to echo throughout the house.

Yet the object of her annoyance was not the one sitting serenely in the living area.

It was the other member of the household. The one who had used his illness as leverage.

Her own father.

"Unbelievable." She muttered under her breath.

Dealing with a visit from Kyouya in her own house was a lot easier than she thought. She was calm, adequately polite…and unfailingly indifferent.

Or at least she pretended to be.

Kyouya had proven himself to be far more serious than she had ever expected.

For a while she foolishly hoped, even as the thought of him using her in his games felt hurtful, surprisingly hurtful.

Though at first his words troubled her, his actions during the past days left her with barely a sliver of doubt as to his intentions.

_The only thing I'm after is you._

She agonized over it, his words playing in her mind over and over. His face and his earnest expression as he spoke the words weaving constantly into her thoughts.

She was not entirely new to the business of courtship, though it was only in retrospect that she realized that she had on occasion been confessed to. She realized after the incident in Karuizawa that perhaps there was a part of her that realized what Arai-kun really wanted to tell her. And perhaps she chose to ignore it, to choose the safer path of ignorance.

Kyouya, however, was a completely different person. And she now knew very well that what troubled her most were her own feelings.

He was too smart, too perceptive, and as proven by his recent actions, too persistent.

Avoiding him barely worked. Somehow he would find ways to be with her – at lunch, during Club activities and even the occasional 'chance' meeting in the hallways of Ouran.

She was certain of the necessity to avoid him and pull herself away from whatever it was he was scheming.

She tried to return to the cold persona she had assumed in her first days at Ouran – before the incident of the vase, before her debt, before Kyouya had even acknowledged her existence.

She could not avoid him, but she could be indifferent to him. For a while it worked, and for a few days he seemed to have finally given up.

_Wrong again._

Yet now he was here, in her house and just minutes before sipping supermarket tea from an imitation teacup.

There seemed to be no stopping him.

Yet the harder she tried to pull away, the more her uncertainty grew.

_My feelings…_

Perhaps it was his constant and almost inescapable presence finally getting to her. Or maybe it was how he was becoming so familiar to her – his changeable smiles now a constant fixture of her days. Perhaps it was their strange conversations – the constant clash of her frankness and his wit.

Perhaps she was yet to get over the incident in his room; that she had never really gotten over that kiss.

Whatever the reason, she knew she was too vulnerable now, and what little of her rational mind still remained dictated that she tread to safer waters.

Whatever her fears were, there was still the matter of his latest plot. Even her own father was possibly conspiring with him.

It was her father who casually suggested that Kyouya join her in her errand. He reasoned that she would be safer with a friend along. When she politely resisted, he resorted to a fit of coughing. When she politely suggested that Kyouya would not enjoy a trip through the 'commonest' parts of Tokyo, she was politely countered.

When she not-so-politely explained that she did not need Kyouya to go with her, her father promptly staggered unto the _tatami_ in a fit of violent coughing that would leave no doubt in anyone's mind that he was in the performing arts.

He knew her weaknesses…and exploited it mercilessly. She had no choice but to agree or be rude and order Kyouya out of the house – though she doubted if even that would deter him.

The sooner she started, the sooner it would be over.

She left her thoughts with the teacups in the sink and strode back into the living room.

"I'm leaving soon." She declared impatiently.

Kyouya rose from the _tatami_.

"I'll go with you."

"You don't have to."

"You said it was not too far away. Now I have nothing else to do. And I came all the way here."

"It's halfway across the city." She countered. "Calling first would've spared you the inconvenience."

He had given her the lame excuse of needing to give a schedule of her tasks for upcoming Club activities. She didn't believe for one minute that it was all he had planned to do.

"It's gratifying to know that my efforts are appreciated."

Haurhi ignored the sarcasm and the other meanings it held. She went to doorway and slid on her shoes, picked up the bag of clothes she was supposed to deliver and marched to the door determinedly.

"Kyouya-san, you can go home now if you want." She suggested politely as she opened the door, quite determined to lock him inside the house if that were even possible.

"I told your father I would go with you, I can't break my word." He countered, yet again.

She resisted the urge to glare at him. She left the door open and set a brisk pace through the hallway.

She was halfway down the flight of stairs when she sensed him catching up.

With a frustrated sigh she turned to him. "Is it too much to hope that you've been on a commuter train before?"

"No, though I'm sure I will enjoy it."

* * *

The trip was uneventful – or as uneventful as an hour-long commute through the city could be.

He was expectedly composed throughout the trip. There were no loud exclamations of amazement that she had come to expect from the other Host Club members whenever they encountered the 'commoner universe.' Not once did he comment on the fact that they were commuting which, for any other Host Club member would be nothing short of a miracle.

She noticed how relatively at ease he was, despite the unfamiliar surroundings. He only once asked her about something – the price of the ticket – and everything else he navigated with very little hesitation. If she didn't know any better he would think him a fraud, that he was a regular commoner disguised as the heir to one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in the country.

She also noticed that he kept his distance. Even inside the packed commuter train he did not get too close, even if it meant him swaying precariously into other passengers.

His face remained impassive, his eyes straying occasionally to the other passengers, though mostly he looked out the windows at the urban landscape speeding past.

Finally they stepped out into the sidewalk from their last station, breathing a sigh of relief.

"This is it, we're here." She announced as Kyouya joined her and kept pace.

She wanted to ask him how he felt about his first very first train ride, but she did not want to sound condescending.

"Why are you looking me like that?" He suddenly asked and she realized she was staring at him.

"Looking at you like what?"

"Like you're surprised I survived my very first commute through the city."

"I'm reserving judgment until the return trip."

"Of course." He replied, barely smirking.

The Yamada house was a modest house in one of the more upscale neighborhoods in that part of the city. A small iron gate broke the monotony of the low gray wall that spanned the length of the house. She found the doorbell set within an elaborately decorated niche on the gate.

Genrou Yamada was a co-worker of her father at the bar and apparently he needed a Heian-style costume that only her father had. Like her father, Genrou-san fell in love and married a woman. However she came from an old and wealthy family who didn't approve of him at all. She was eventually disowned by the family and not even her own parents spoke to her anymore.

She thought of her own mother and father and how their own relationship must have shocked the people around them. They came from two different worlds and it must have been very difficult. Yet her mother made a choice, and stood by it.

She found herself wondering if she would be just as strong.

Her reverie was interrupted when the gate opened to reveal Genrou-san himself.

"Haruhi-chan!"

"_Konnichiwa_, Genrou-san."

"_Ara_! Is this your boyfriend?" Genrou asked excitedly. Unlike her father, he barely looked like a woman without make-up.

"He's not –" She wanted to declare firmly, but was interrupted.

"_Hajimemashite_," Kyouya intoned politely as he introduced himself.

"You two make a cute couple!!" Genrou-san squeaked.

"We're not a couple. He's my classmate."

"Ah! _Gomennasai_!" Genrou-san intoned apologetically.

Before he could say anything more, she handed him the bag of clothes. "Genrou-san, Otou-san said you needed this. He's sorry he couldn't give it to you himself. He suddenly felt sick this morning."

"_Arigatou_! That's so kind of you. I could have picked it up myself, Ranka shouldn't have sent you all this way!"

"It's okay, Genrou-san. It wasn't an inconvenience."

"Not at all." Kyouya piped in.

"Please come in!" Came a woman's voice.

A petite middle-aged woman in a traditional kimono emerged from the house.

"This is my wife, Fumiko." Genrou-san supplied. "Please, come and have some snacks."

They were ushered into the house – which proved to be quite spacious. The living room was big enough for a Western-style couch and a coffee table. Fumiko-san disappeared into the kitchen as her husband led them to sit. They were barely settled when she re-emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray.

"You must be tired. Please have some tea."

"_Arigatou_." Haruhi replied graciously masking her reluctance. She had hoped to leave sooner.

"Before I forget, there is something I need to give your father too! If that is all right? Maybe you two are going somewhere else?" Genrou-san asked.

"It's all right. We're not going anywhere else." Haruhi declared firmly.

"Oh I see. I should get it now and have it properly packed." Genrou-san said as he hurried towards another part of the house.

Fumiko-san took her husband's place and instantly asked what was probably the most pertinent question on her mind.

"So, how long have you two been together?" The woman asked excitedly.

Haruhi nearly choked on her tea.

"We're just classmates." She declared, suppressing a cough.

"_Gommenasai_! I thought I heard my husband say you were a couple."

"I believe he said we would make a cute couple." Kyouya opined with a smile.

"But we're not." She retorted, glaring at Kyouya.

"As you say."

Haruhi could see the older woman smile unrestrainedly at both of them.

"Kyouya-san seems to disagree." Fumiko-san smiled, almost teasingly. "_Demo_, it is Haruhi's opinion that matters, _ne_?"

"_Hai…_" Haruhi replied faintly. She proceeded to sip her tea solemnly, grateful for any excuse to avoid the conversation.

Surprisingly, it was Kyouya who steered the conversation away from the topic and into actual inane small talk. Soon Genrou-san returned carrying a large plastic bag of _miso_ that was to be a gift to her father. To her relief the conversation veered firmly towards safer topics and away from her supposed love life.

She noticed how Kyouya was polite and engaging with the Yamadas, despite her initial doubts about what his demeanor would be. There was none of his haughty indifference. If he had any other opinion of his current companions, nothing in his words of expression betrayed it.

She could almost believe he was actually enjoying it.

The visit ended not a moment too soon for her. She was saved by phone call for Genrou-san, during which she made an exaggerated show of checking her mobile phone for the time.

"Please tell your father I really appreciate this favor. I hope he enjoys the _miso_, it will help cure his cold." Genrou-san enthused as they walked towards the gate.

"_Arigatou_, Genrou-san, Fumiko-san."

"Please visit us again. Maybe then you will already be a couple." Fumiko-san teased.

"I will look forward to that." Kyouya replied.

* * *

As they walked towards the station, they fell once more into silence, the awkwardness of their impromptu tea party with the Yamadas now past.

"An interesting visit." Kyouya remarked as they stepped once more into a train.

"You don't need to lie to me. Feel free to admit you were bored to death."

He was gazing towards the train windows but even in profile she could see his faint smile.

"I enjoyed it much more than you did."

She didn't say another word.

* * *

The commute back to their neighborhood seemed much longer. As they reached the street leading back to the apartment she noticed that the sun now hung low on the horizon.

They were passing through a deserted playground when Kyouya suddenly slowed his pace.

"What is it?" She asked, surprised.

A few more moments under her irritated glare passed before he answered.

"This commoner method of dating is not as bad as I thought it would be."

"You think this is a date?" She asked, not a little sarcasm lacing her tone.

"And you would be an expert on the matter?"

She cringed inwardly but rallied. "I don't think delivering a package counts as a date…in any level of society."

He remained silent, his expression vaguely amused. He raised his hands to his glasses, adjusting them slightly before forming his lips into his trademark smirk.

Unceremoniously he strolled to a nearby bench and promptly took a seat.

"What would you consider a date, then?" He asked seriously, as if he were quizzing her on world politics.

She realized she could either stand foolishly in front of him, holding a giant bag of _miso_, or she could sit beside him on the bench.

"What would _you_ consider a date?" She threw the question back at him as she reluctantly sat on the far end of the bench, the bag of _miso_ placed firmly between them.

"Dinner at a five-star restaurant, a night at the conservatory, a play or an opera. Perhaps even a movie, but only if it's a premiere. If possible, a trip to Paris by private jet. Better yet, a day on a private island."

"Oh." She asked, half-impressed. The ways of the rich never failed to amaze her.

"You don't approve?"

"I guess rich people really do those things." She replied cautiously.

"And you don't like that?" He asked, noticing her reserve.

"I don't know. It sounds a bit too much. Some people don't even get to see Paris until they retire. Some people never do."

"Have you ever been to Paris?"

"I don't have a passport."

"I told you I could get one for you."

Somehow she sensed this offer was now a genuine one.

"No thank you. I don't have plans to go abroad."

"I see."

He was smiling at her again. Just as suddenly he rose from the bench. She saw him glance slightly at the bag of _miso_ as she stood and lifted it from the bench with some difficulty.

"So?" He asked as they resumed their pace.

She looked at him questioningly.

"If jetting to Paris is not your idea of a date, then what is?"

She realized that the honest answer would be that she had never really thought about it.

Yet somehow she felt like that was not the answer she needed to give him.

In the relative of silence of the street she could hear the muffled voices of the people in the neighborhood, the laughter of children chasing each other home, the jumbled noises of dozens of televisions tuned to myriad of channels, the muted roar of the now-distant train.

These were familiar sounds to her, the sounds of the neighborhood she grew up in. This was her world.

She could only wonder at how foreign this all was to him.

"_Lineage comes first. Wealth, a close second."_

She had neither.

Yet he was here, walking with her.

"What is your idea of a date, Haruhi?" He asked her again, but this time he didn't wait for an answer.

He simply took the heavy bag from her, picked up his pace and walked slightly ahead of her.

She watched him walk toward the apartment building, his silhouette bathed in the orange glow of sunset, the giant linen bag slung over his shoulder.

She found her answer.

"A walk." She said softly.

She knew he didn't hear her.

Yet a small voice inside her hoped that he did.

_to be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

**Sleeping In**

by Palatyne

**Chapter Eleven**

**Best-Laid Plans**

**

* * *

**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Mediaand the anime to Bones, .

**Author's Note: **I begin again with apologies for the delay. I hope you enjoy this, though it's a little short.

Thank you so much to all those still faithfully following this story. I appreciate all the reviews, and I am ever grateful. Thank you!

* * *

Kyouya Ootori sat in a slightly secluded corner of the Music Room, in an alcove of sorts that gave him the perfect vantage point from which to view the entire room, and the rest of the Club. It was another busy afternoon and normally he'd be watching the progress of the designations whilst reviewing their books or planning and organizing a future event.

He sat there as he always did, calm and collected. Yet his notebook lay open and unnoticed on his lap. His gaze would occasionally sweep the room, but only out of habit.

For a strange sense of disarray simmered beneath his veneer of calm, and this was now a constant feature of his days.

At times he felt as is he were constantly on the alert, his mind and body humming and ready for battle. At other times he felt a hushed sense of excitement, as if he were standing at the edge of the shore in an undertow, the onslaught of waves imminent but not unwelcome.

A less pragmatic man would be worried, but Kyouya Ootori embraced this newfound facet of his otherwise monotone emotional spectrum with an alacrity that surprised him – even if he did so only in the silence and privacy of his reflections.

The source of these strange emotions he was now able to deduce. Several weeks ago he stood at the precipice of failure. But with a turn of the tide, his suit moved from the edge of the cliff to safer ground.

A fighting chance.

The trip to Haruhi's house was an impulse (or as near as an impulsive decision for someone like him) and he had not expected it to work out at all. But it did, and in some small way it made a difference.

It proved to him something that he had begun to realize the moment he confessed his feelings – that she found it difficult to trust him.

She always suspected him of ulterior motives, always jumping to the more sinister conclusion –

believing that she had no value to him, other than as a Host Club member, the girl who owed him 8 million yen.

He couldn't blame her for her distrust, not when he was partly responsible for her being forced into the Club. Their very first encounter involved a debt to be paid, and even now that was all she could think of.

Yet he never told her or the others that the vase meant nothing to him, worthless compared to all the other things he had to spend for in the Club. The vase had been easily replaced with one from his family's own collection – a piece worth far more than the one destroyed.

He never even wrote the debt down.

_Special Student, Haruhi Fujioka._

He had read her name, saw her records and her excellent grades, saw her picture – he had been expecting to run into her sooner or later.

What he didn't expect were her brown eyes, her irreverence, her nonchalance, her disdain for their wealth and privilege, her perceptiveness, and her kindness.

He didn't expect her.

He had learned his lesson.

No more plans, no more schemes.

There was only one plan now. To make her trust him. To make her believe him.

And more.

But all the rest could wait.

He could wait.

He took the near-forgotten notebook and browsed through it for that afternoon's schedule. He had a meeting with the president of the History Club for the use of certain artifacts for the Host Club's activities next month. The theme was the Italian Renaissance – another extravagant but foolish request from Tamaki.

The same Tamaki who, for the past hour had been trying in vain to observe him as inconspicuously as possible.

Kyouya could make him out from the distance, seated in one of the loveseats at the center of the room looking for all the world like the perfect host fully attentive to his clients. But surreptitiously his eyes would wander, his eyes trained towards Kyouya's direction – observing, watching, perhaps even waiting for something. For days he had been that way, suddenly aloof and observant.

Perhaps this, Kyouya thought, was another reason why he had been on edge the past days. He stood then, striding purposefully towards the door, leaving the steady chatter and noise of the Music Room behind him.

He was not surprised when a few strides after the door clicked shut, it creaked open again and he heard Tamaki voice.

"Kyouya, I need to talk to you." Tamaki intoned gravely, his exaggerated somber voice echoing in the empty hallway.

Inwardly, Kyouya sighed – part relief, part unease. He knew that sooner or later the rest of the Club would figure out his pursuit of Haruhi. Mori and Hunny-sempai were first, then the Hitaachin twins.

And now was Tamaki's turn.

He knew Tamaki was not a fool – despite most of his actions pointing towards that conclusion. His only weakness was his lack of perceptiveness, his utter trust in the goodness of others, his naiveté – but he was no fool.

Now, though last of them all, he had finally noticed. The one person he would consider calling his friend.

_Friend._

He had always wondered about the word. Tamaki used the terms so freely, so casually. It was the same with the rest of Club members. He, on the other hand, could not claim to have the same ease with the word.

Yet, despite his own reticence, he could not deny that Tamaki was indeed his friend – or at least the closest to one he will ever have.

And if nothing else, Tamaki was a good friend.

"What is it, Tamaki?" He asked evenly, as he paused in his stride, turning around to face him. He set his face with a mask of indifference.

They were barely a few feet from each other, yet Kyouya could sense the distance as if it were an actual physical barrier.

Tamaki was staring at him defiantly, determinedly – as if he were putting all of his courage in the act.

When his words came out they were uncertain, but firm.

"I…I've seen what you've been doing."

"I've been doing a lot of things lately. To which are you referring to?" Kyouya asked, not to feign innocence or to mock but to make things clear.

If this was to be the inevitable confrontation, then at least the terms were clear.

"I know what you've been doing..." Tamaki paused, gauging his next words. "As Otousan I cannot condone what you're doing! You've been spending way too much time with our daughter and it's not fair!"

_So it begins._

"I...I know you went to her house last week! And every time there's a break in-between designations you are always with her!" Tamaki continued.

The outburst came in a rush of breath and whining, and in the end the effort seemed to have drained Tamaki of all the determined courage he had built up. He seemed to have relaxed a little, now that he had spoken his mind.

Kyouya however, felt a spark of anger. The realization disturbed him and for a moment he was still. His plan was to evade Tamaki's questions, to deflect them as he had done with the others.

But something about Tamaki's words angered him, the way he reverted to the mask of _Otousan_, the way he held back and let the illusion of family hold – despite his obvious objection to whatever it was he thought Kyouya was doing.

"Well, aren't you going to say anything?" Tamaki demanded.

"Why are you asking me this?" He intoned, trying to force calmness into his words.

"I told you! Why are you monopolizing our daughter?"

"What Haruhi does with her time is her business."

"It is my business, she's our daughter!" Tamaki cried out.

For a few still moments he was silent, then in a quiet voice he replied.

"She is not your daughter, nor mine."

Perhaps it was the way he said it, the icy steel in his voice.

Or perhaps it was the way he moved as step forward as he said it, his steady eyes trained on Tamaki – willing him to realize that he was no longer playing games.

Perhaps it was simply the expression of sheer frustration and anger on his face.

But as the words came out, spoken harshly enough to echo slightly in the hallway, he knew that there would be no turning back.

He could only hope, that Tamaki realized this as well.

"Instead of asking me stupid questions about Haruhi, you should be asking yourself why you even care." He continued quietly.

"I don't understand…"

For the first time since they stepped into the hallway, Tamaki's voice had changed its tenor. No longer was it the childish whine that it was seconds earlier. It was the voice of someone utterly confused, confronted by something unexpected.

This was the voice of his friend.

A friend that may very well be the one hurdle to his current goal – perhaps the one obstacle he could not possibly surmount.

A rival.

_Possibly._

_If he stops being an idiot._

But he took comfort in the fact that Tamaki was still blissfully ignorant of his own feelings, his true feelings for the girl he called his daughter.

He would not be the one to make the realization for him.

It was not his place.

More importantly, although Tamaki was perhaps his only friend, he was still Kyouya Ootori.

And this was one struggle he could not bear to lose.

But as always, the terms had to be clear. He had to be fair. He would give his friend sufficient warning.

_Or as clear a warning as I can afford._

As he turned away from a now frowning, thoroughly confused Tamaki, he declared:

"I already know what I want."

* * *

_To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

**Sleeping In**

by Palatyne

**Chapter Twelve**

**Overheard**

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Media and the anime to Bones, et. al.

* * *

If she had any more energy to spare, she would be running. She would run as if the very ground under her feet were on fire.

Yet now, as she neared the refuge of her house, she could only manage a slow walk, her mind spinning with thoughts unbidden, the words she heard still echoing within.

She had not meant to hear them. She had come from the teacher's lounge, in consultation with one of her teachers regarding a paper she was tasked to write. The slew of special activities that the Host Club did the past weeks had taken a toll on her studies. Her teachers were not alarmed, but she did not want to give them the wrong impression. She was at Ouran out of charity but under the condition that she make the most of her stay and be worthy of the scholarship so rarely given. She was a _special student_ after all.

She was on her way back to the Music Room. Unbeknownst to her, two people were also on their way out.

She heard the raised voices and knew immediately who they were.

_Tamaki-sempai._

_Kyouya._

She had heard them argue before, or that is, they were constantly arguing. She was used to it. Everyone was used to it. But as she neared the corner and as their voices became clearer, she knew this was not like any argument they ever had.

At the sound of her name she froze.

They were arguing about her.

It shocked her, and the rest of their argument was drowned out by the din in her own mind, and the sudden, frantic pounding of heart.

Even now she could no longer remember most of what she heard.

But Kyouya's words were clear.

_I already know what I want._

If she were a little more naïve, she would be reeling now in utter confusion. If she had heard the words weeks ago, perhaps now she would indeed be running, frantic to escape the torment of such words.

Fleeing from the feelings such words stirred within her.

Yet as the words replayed themselves in her mind, she felt them to be true. Never mind that a small part of her mind was still uncertain, still clinging to the thought of all of it being a scheme, of his words being no more than a ruse – the honeyed words of a host.

Weeks ago, that voice would have been loud and clear and virtually ringing in her ears.

But now her mind would go back to all that had happened between them in the past weeks, all that had changed, all the words that he spoke to her, all the time he had spent with her.

And one memory would surface among all others.

The memory of the moment their lips touched, the memory of the kiss that started it all.

She couldn't remember when it made sense to her. She felt now as if she had known it all long. She had simply been too stubborn, too frightened of the truth in his words, afraid of the truth in his actions.

She had stopped running away. It was not an entirely conscious decision, but rather more like a gentle yielding. Ever since that afternoon they spent together, it was if a burden had been lifted from her, like the bag of _miso_ he so effortlessly carried back into her house.

She now felt more at ease whenever she was with him, the confusion and uncertainly that plagued her before.

She trusted him, believed him, and being with him now felt different.

She wondered now if he knew this would happen. If he knew that he had the power to slowly but surely tear away at her resistance, at the walls she had built around her.

At times she thought perhaps she had simply tired out, resigned herself to being pursued by him.

And pursue her, he did – subtly, discreetly, never in plain view of the rest of the Club. But he was relentless and he made sure that she knew exactly what he was trying to do. It was not by chance that he had been eating lunch with her all but every day in the last week. It was no coincidence that they would be designated together in most of their hosting work. It was not sheer luck that had him spending every spare minute he had with her.

And whenever they parted he would give her that same teasing, half-smirk – because he knew she was no longer avoiding him, no longer passive, no longer running away.

She couldn't anymore.

Not even if she wanted to.

The seed of uncertainty she had sensed that morning after the kiss, the small spark of some unknown feeling she had tried hard to suppress, grew traitorously inside her – fed by her doubts, strengthened by her denial and now unraveling in her heart.

And when she heard his words, she knew they were true.

She trusted him to be true.

Now, it was no longer about what _he _wanted.

But even as she willed her heart to consider, she could not help but heave what seemed to her were a lifetime's worth of sighs.

_I already know what I want._

Momentarily distracted from her thoughts, she was not a little surprised when she realized she had reached their apartment without her even noticing. She trudged up the stairs leading to her house, mechanically going through the all-too familiar routine.

But as she closed the door behind her, she sagged weakly onto the floor, her back slipping against the door.

_Okaasan._

She called to her mother. Always in her times of distress she would call to her. But if the scant memories of her mother she had were to be trusted, she knew she would be laughing now at her daughter's predicament.

She would laugh at her daughter's foolishness.

But then, maybe she would smile too.

For at long last, Fujioka Haruhi had finally figured it out.

Gingerly she reached into her pocket for the cell phone the twins had given her long ago, programmed with the numbers of all of the Host Club members.

She only needed one.

She knew now what she had to do.

But if she could be a little more honest, then she should say that she had known for a while now.

Perhaps she had known that evening when they walked back to her house.

Or perhaps she had known that day when his warm hands soothed hers, half-burned by the tea she had spilled.

If she were completely honest, true to the deepest corners of her heart, she should say she knew even before that.

She had known the moment his lips touched hers.

She sighed some more.

"Okaasan, maybe I know what I want, too."

* * *

_To be continued…_

* * *

Postscript:

It occurred to me to write this little note after publishing Chapter 11. I have long realized that many readers have various and numerous expectations as to how certain threads of the plot should go. Alas, it is inevitable that many of those expectations will not be met. The truth is, this story was envisioned to last no more than five (5) chapters. It extended this much mostly to address many of the earlier comments/expectations/suggestions as to how the plot should go. So in many ways, some/most of you have helped me craft this story or at least gently steered me to a certain direction.

But, this story must end. The ending is largely unchanged from when I wrote the first words. In many ways, it's very different from the rest of the narrative – but in many ways too, it's the one chapter that truly reflects what I wanted for this story.

Thank you very much for reading, reviewing, waiting patiently for every chapter all these years. I can't apologize enough for being very slow to update.

Just one more chapter 'til the end.

Thank you!


	13. Chapter 13

**Sleeping In**

by Palatyne

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Behind a Rose Hedge**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Media and the anime to Bones, et. al.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Behind a Rose Hedge**

* * *

Ouran in the early morning was a sight to behold, as the morning sun cast its rays onto the vast, stone buildings, the many-hued morning sky reflected from the swathes of glass windows that covered the façade. The high clock tower rose in all its glory against the vibrant sky like a giant sentinel, awaiting the moment its hands would signal the chiming of bells and the start of a new day.

The grounds and buildings were silent. Very few students of Ouran came to school so early. They had no trains to catch, no early morning rush hour to beat. Only a handful of the maintenance staff could be seen bustling about.

She headed towards the large expanse of greenery that was the maze. She had been lost there once with Tamaki-sempai, and from then on avoided the place entirely.

Until a few months ago, when she found herself lost within again.

Remarkably, it was a not Host Club activity that led her to that predicament, but her own carelessness. She had dropped by Kasanoda-kun's small garden and was pleasantly surprised to see him there with a few girls – all bearing a mixed expression of anxiety and excitement – new recruits of his gardening club. Time passed quickly and she found herself running late for her duties in the Host Club. Kasanoda-kun tried to be helpful and gave her instructions for a shorter route back into the buildings, but it was one that would cut through the maze.

On hindsight, she should have known it was a bad idea, Kasanoda-kun's detailed instructions notwithstanding. But foolishly she tempted fate and sprinted toward the direction of the maze. Within minutes she realized her mistake and after half an hour of aimless backtracking, she realized she was utterly lost.

She took turn after turn, even once wondering if she could just cut across the hedge. She realized, of course, that they had more thorns than roses.

Her luck only afforded her the discovery of a clearing, not unlike the one with the gazebo where she and Tamaki-sempai once found themselves in. It was the size of a large room with the high walls of the hedge serving as its walls. A patch of expertly trimmed grass lined with decorative marble stones matched a stone bench and table at the center. On a corner rose a small, decorative willow tree, its dense leaves providing some shade from the sun. It was all more decorative than comfortable, but with a sigh of resignation she sat on the bench.

She knew she needed to ask for help. She could no longer figure out how to get back to Kasanoda-kun. The only people left were the members of the Host Club. She had her phone with her, yet she hesitated. They were sure to make a big deal out of it, and tired as she was, she still had some of her pride left. She was also far too tired to have to deal with their antics.

She sagged even further on the bench, suddenly feeling the exhaustion that she had ignored the whole day. She had been running around since morning, doing things for school and the Club. It was always like this whenever the Club planned for an event – the Host Club was worth three regular clubs in terms of extravagance, and worth ten in terms of workload.

It was all too easy to simply lay down her head on the table and sleep.

Too easy.

One moment she was sitting on the bench, resting her head over hands folded and propped on the table.

The next moment, she was flying through sunny skies, rolling plains of grass and gigantic roses.

It was, as most of her dreams were, absurd and incoherent. She was flying high above the sky and looking down at the fields of roses. It seemed for a long while that she was cruising through the air. She felt herself drifting further away. The wind was much stronger amongst the clouds and she could hear it all around her, whistling, howling, whispering, shrieking, singing, calling. She let herself drift away some more, trying to ignore the wind.

Until she realized that the wind was calling her name.

She woke up with a start.

When she looked up, her blurry gaze met a pair of dark eyes framed by black-rimmed glasses.

She bit back a gasp. For a moment she thought she was still dreaming. She blinked a few times to clear her eyes.

_Kyouya-sempai._

"What are you doing here?" He asked almost nonchalantly, but there was no denying the reproving tenor in his voice.

"Sleeping." She muttered irritably, it felt like half her body was still asleep. "I was lost." She added, lest he think she was shirking from her duties.

"I know." He countered evenly. "I checked with Kasanoda-kun when you didn't show up in the Music Room. You mentioned you were dropping by the gardening club. He said you had left and went through the maze to return to the buildings."

"He told me he knew a short cut." She muttered. She hauled herself upright then, rubbing her bleary eyes clear.

Kyouya was sitting on the other end of the bench, his laptop on the stone table, pen in hand and his ever-present notebook lay open on his lap. It seemed like he had been sitting there for quite some time. It was then that she realized that unlike her dream, the clear blue skies of afternoon was fading, and the skies were now took the red-orange hue of nearing dusk.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Around two hours."

"What? Why didn't you wake me?"

"You didn't look like you were ready to be woken."

She wanted to roll her eyes at his words, despite the implied thoughtfulness in his actions. It was typical of him to always temper his acts of kindness with subtle but biting criticism.

"You waited here all this time?"

"I volunteered to look for you. The rest had designations."

She didn't delude herself into thinking he did so purely out of caring. No doubt he volunteered because he knew he would be the most efficient in finding her, sparing the other members the trouble, and him the worry over lost designations.

"Arigatou." She intoned, grudgingly, but gratefuly.

He merely nodded to her in reply.

"We should head back." He said as he stood up, swiftly and efficiently gathering his things.

"Hai."

"Don't worry, I know the way back."

"Hai." She replied in mock deference, her eyes catching the smirk on his face.

They walked silently through the maze, with her following half a step behind him, wanting to keep up, but also wanting to familiarize herself with the route.

"There's a trick to it, you know." He spoke suddenly.

"The maze?"

"The maze is not that difficult to figure out. There is a trick to finding the fastest and easiest route out."

"What is it, then?"

"The clock tower."

"Eh?" She followed his gaze to the where the Ouran clock tower loomed above the hedges.

"The turns in the maze were mapped so the way out leads to the clock tower. As long as you keep it in front of you, you will find the way out."

"How did you know this?"

"I've been lost here many times myself, when I was younger."

"Eh? You mean, in your first year?" She asked, not a little bewildered at the thought of Kyouya being lost anywhere.

"No, earlier than that. I've been a student here since kindergarten."

His candor surprised her a little, and an image of a young Kyouya came into her mind.

She wondered what he was like as a child, wondered if he had always been so calm and so serious. She knew a little about his family now, after the events during the festival. She knew a bit of the kind of life they had – witnessed for herself the rigid and formal relationship he had with his father, who seemed to her like a man straight out of fiction, powerful and larger than life.

Just like Kyouya-sempai himself.

"I was a normal child, if that is what you're wondering about."

"I was not wondering about anything!"

"My older brothers were already in high school and middle school when I started elementary here. For a time I wanted to see them at school, see what they were like." He explained.

He paused a while as they took another turn. "I heard from my sister, that this maze was a shortcut to many places in Ouran. I decided to find out for myself if that were true, which was a mistake."

"So you got lost?"

"Several times."

"How did you get out?"

"I would get lucky and encounter other people, students, gardeners. It was not too difficult to ask for help when you are a young, helpless child."

Inwardly she sighed, her image of a young, innocent version of him slightly altering. Even as a child, she doubted Kyouya Ootori was ever helpless.

"Why did you keep coming back?"

"I began to see the maze as a challenge." He answered after a pause. She sensed a slight hesitation from him, as if he had caught himself saying too much.

Then she saw him touch the bridge his glasses, the glint of the afternoon sun shielding his eyes from view.

"I hated the feeling of being trapped and I was determined to figure it out, to learn the maze and beat it."

"That does sound like you" She smiled at him. He merely shrugged slightly.

Despite his seemingly uncaring reaction, she wondered why he told her such a story. He was never one to tell stories about himself. But now, in the silence of the maze, he had just shared with her a piece of his childhood.

"We're nearing the exit."

She was too lost in thought to notice that they were indeed nearing the edge of the maze. She could already make out the high archways of the main entrance and she knew that even further ahead, she would see the first steps of the walkway leading to the main courtyard, with the clock tower rising high above it.

The rest of the way was spent in silence and eventually they had managed to return to the Music Room just in time to prevent Tamaki-sempai from calling the police to report a missing person. To her chagrin, the designations had to be extended into the early evening.

That afternoon in the maze now seemed too long ago. So many things had happened between Kyouya and herself since that day. Yet the memory of that afternoon stood out so much more now in her mind.

Somehow, in that afternoon, he had not just taught her the secrets of the maze.

He had shared with her a little piece of himself.

Now, in the silence and the slight chill of the morning, under the archways of the maze's entrance she must go in once more.

To find him.

She marched on, keeping the clock tower behind her whilst following the turns as best she could. She thought she almost missed it, but soon she found the small clearing with the marble bench and table under a tree.

He was already there.

With a bright smile and with her heart beating wildly, she greeted him.

"I found you."

* * *

His greeting in reply, as expected, was far less dramatic. He merely nodded and greeted her good morning, his face a mask of calm.

She had sent him the message that night she overhead his argument with Tamaki, asking him as politely as she could if he would meet her that morning. For a full minute she waited with bated breath, until his reply arrived.

It was he who suggested the maze.

"Gomennasai, I shouldn't have asked to meet so early." She apologized fervently.

She walked towards the bench, hesitantly taking a seat beside him.

"I couldn't sleep, anyway."

"Me too." She admitted.

"Are you cold?"

"No. I'm okay." She replied hurriedly, worried the small talk would lengthen and what little courage she had gathered would desert her.

And there were things she wanted to know first.

"Why did you leave your family mansion?"

His eyes widened slightly in obvious surprise at her question. But his voice was level as he answered her.

"My father asked me to do something and it angered me."

He was vague as usual, and it didn't seem like he wanted to explain further.

She took a moment, weighing her words.

"I guess all parents are like that. They ask us to do things for our own good." She replied tactfully.

His expression had changed slightly from the quite calm, his brows were slightly furrowed.

"My father is unlike other parents. He's a man who will do whatever it takes to get things according to his plan, be it in business or in other things, even in his own family – and he's not above playing games and manipulating people to get what he wants."

She was a little surprised at the vehemence in his words, the steely calm with which he spoke only served to betray how much of his anger he tried to conceal.

There was a pause, and for a moment she thought she saw regret cross his features. Then just as suddenly, his expression softened once more.

He seemed vaguely thoughtful.

"It's not that I hated what he wanted me to do. On the contrary, I could not have wanted anything more."

"So why were you angry?"

"I can't have him playing his schemes, not when someone important to me is involved."

She looked at him questioningly and suddenly felt self-conscious even as she wondered who he was referring to. She turned her face away from him slightly. She thought of his sister and his brothers. Perhaps, Tamaki-sempai? The other Host Club members?

Then a sudden thought occurred to her.

"From how you describe him, he reminds me of someone I know."

"Who?"

"You." She smiled at him but faltered as she saw his expression change dramatically. His face paled as he heard her words.

"So you think I'm manipulative and controlling?"

"That's not what I mean!" Haruhi cut in immediately, alarmed by his reaction. She continued hesitantly. "I'm just saying that, maybe you have some things in common. Maybe, you're far more like him than you realize. That part about being determined…well, you're the most determined person I know."

He looked away then and she sensed some of the calm returning.

"That's an interesting thought." He said after a while.

Mentally Haruhi berated herself for the misstep, for it seemed they had reached a stall once more. For a long moment they simply sat there and silence engulfed them. He was not looking at her at all, his eyes gazing somewhere in the distance.

She was about to gather her courage to speak again, but it was he who spoke first.

"Why are we here, Haruhi?"

The directness of his question unnerved her. But she had steeled herself for this conversation, it was she who wanted it. It was she who had things to say.

She silently took a deep breath.

"You told me that you kissed me because I wanted you to…" She started.

She was no longer looking at him. She had spent the entire night planning what to say. The courage and determination that drove her to sleeplessness seemed to be slipping away.

But the time to back out had passed.

"You were right." She all but whispered.

Even as she felt a great relief as she said the words, she knew without a doubt that she was red to the roots of her hair. Even if he compelled her now she knew she couldn't look at him. She prayed for him to somehow understand what she was trying to say.

Prayed that he figure out that she was at that moment, baring her very heart to him – and every word she uttered was agony.

Yet that was only the first part, the easy part, in fact.

All throughout the long night she agonized over what to say to him, shoring up her determination to be firm, to stand her ground.

She resolved that night that though she would admit to the kiss they had shared, she had to make him understand that despite everything, despite that admission, despite whatever feelings she had for him, there was nothing more she could give him. She would be ready to clearly explain to him that their relationship could go no further than that kiss.

She felt that was the right thing to do, the practical, reasonable thing to do.

Yet all throughout that night, there was a part of her that silently screamed for her attention – the truest part of her, the part of her she had been so afraid of.

Now in the light of day, even as her admission brought her some relief, she suddenly felt like a fraud.

But she was determined to do the right thing.

And so, despite all she felt, she spoke once more and spoke firmly.

"But this doesn't change anything. It should never happen again."

If his expression changed, if he was surprised, shocked or angered, she didn't know.

She could only look away, far away, at the roses that dotted the tops of the edges, at the slowly brightening indigo sky, at the white clouds in the distance – but just not his face, not his eyes, not at him.

It was another long silence before he spoke.

"Haruhi, will you look at me?"

The gentleness of his voice gave her a start.

"Will you look at me?" He asked again, almost a whisper.

Cautiously she turned to face him, and saw the steely, determined look on his face, it was the same blazing expression she had seen that fateful morning and many other times after – his dark eyes piercing through her once more.

"You can't possibly think that I can accept that?" He asked quietly, challengingly.

"Kyouya-sempai, please understand." She intoned firmly, trying to stand her ground under the intensity of his gaze.

She knew he would be relentless, he would be difficult. But she could argue with him if need be. She was prepared for this.

"There is no need to make a big deal out of it. We're not going out or anything." She reasoned.

"We already had our first date."

For a moment her lips were ready to deliver a well-rehearsed retort – but as the meaning of his words dawned on her, she fell silent.

The words that he said to her that one afternoon came back to her, the question which she thought was asked half in jest, half in mockery.

And the reply she thought he did not hear.

"We had a walk." He declared now, his expression almost triumphant

"You heard that?"

"I pay attention."

She sighed almost resignedly, her mind still reeling.

She wondered why it was so easy for him to unnerve her, to tear away at her barriers, to steal away her calm with just his words.

"Kyouya-_sempai_." She spoke determinedly, the honorific heavy on her lips "This is not going to work, and you know it. We should just keep to the way things are. We can't change it just because of one kiss."

"Then let's make it two."

Before she could react, Kyouya reached one hand behind her nape and gently drew her face closer to his.

She drew in a sharp breath. His fingers brushed her cheeks lightly, the touch of his skin against hers was at once strangely exhilarating and oddly familiar.

It all came back to her, the feel of his touch, the memories of the kiss they had shared.

It was her undoing.

With their lips only a hairsbreadth apart, Kyouya paused.

"Tell me to stop, and I will." He whispered, his breath warm against her cheeks.

She had meant to tell him no. She had meant to make him see reason.

But once again his nearness, his touch, the hand on her nape, the brush of his fingers on her cheeks, the sound of his voice and the blazing depths of his eyes were drawing her in, making her forget all else.

"Kyouya…" She sighed.

Belatedly she realized she had said his name.

And only his name.

Then he smiled at her, and she thought she had never seen such a smile on his face ever before – a smile of absolute pleasure.

"Time's up." He whispered as he leaned forward and finally captured her lips.

It was almost the same – that morning when he slept in, when she stumbled into his bedroom.

But unlike that time, now she knew what she didn't want him to do.

She didn't want him to stop.

She wanted to feel.

Feel the softness of his lips on hers.

Feel the same lips brushing against her cheeks, the same lips from where his warm breath whispered her name.

Feel his hand on her nape, steady and warm, then moving down, caressing her back in a gentle, repeating motion. His other hand was splayed widely on the side of her face, sometimes cupping her cheek, sometimes moving down her neck, at times tangling his fingers in her hair.

This kiss felt deeper, she felt like he was drawing her into him as close as humanly possible. His lips suckled hers, his tongue reaching into her – and he tasted of mint and something else, his own taste rushing into her. Her senses were on a riot, her heart pounding and her mind lost in the sensations of his lips, his tongue, his hands and his scent surrounding her.

It was too much, too intimate.

She knew she had to get away, to let go, to break the kiss.

But as before, she couldn't.

She wouldn't.

She kissed him back, her lips eagerly reaching for his. She tasted him as he tasted her. She heard a low groan escape his throat at the contact. Then quite suddenly his hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her even closer to him.

If he could see her he would know her face now burned. She wondered if in his nearness perhaps he felt her heart pounding so hard, it was all but bursting out of her chest.

Yet she couldn't stop. Her hands gripped his arm, his shoulder tightly, keeping him close.

She didn't know how long they were all but wrapped in each other. She didn't know how many times their lips met and met again, and the many times he whispered her name in between their kisses.

It was too long, perhaps. But when he broke away, brushing his lips against hers gently before finally moving away, she knew it was all too short.

And for a moment, all they could do was look at each other, and catch their breath.

She spoke first.

"Kyouya…_sempai._" She added, uncertainly – knowing what they just did was now far beyond the realm of intimacy covered by the honorific.

"Call me by my name, Haruhi_._" It was not a request.

"Kyouya." She acquiesced, if only for that moment. "I don't know if I can do this –"

"It doesn't matter."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"I'm not asking you to make any promises. This is not a debt that you have to pay, Haruhi." He continued.

"What is this, then?" She asked, exasperation lacing her tone.

"A challenge, one that I will win."

"So that's what this is?" She was suddenly irritated, his words confusing her, angering her.

She moved away from him, but his hands gently but firmly held her in place.

"Haruhi, I know what you're trying to say. I know you're not ready."

She raised her eyes to meet his, her expressing not a little furious.

But to her surprise there was none of the self-assured determination on his face, neither was it the amused, mocking expression she had seen countless of times before when he was teasing her.

Instead there was only a solemn earnestness – as if he were seeking, even pleading for something.

"I will wait."

He spoke the words as if they were an oath, a vow.

He continued. "Tomorrow, next month, when you graduate, when you become a lawyer. It doesn't matter how long."

"Wait for what?"

"For you to realize that you belong with me."

He smirked then, his trademark smirk.

"But I promise too, that there will not be a day that passes that I will not _remind _you and _persuade _you to admit that fact."

She felt her anger slowly seeping away. She felt the long-silenced part of her heart clamoring wildly within her – the part of her that felt with utter certainty that he was not lying to her.

She wanted to know, to understand why he was saying such things to her, why he had done all the things he did, why he was promising her something so incredulous.

"Why?"

She saw the change in his expression then, the way his body suddenly attuned to hers, his dark eyes held hers.

Then he spoke the words, the answer to her question.

It was barely more than a whisper.

The words fell from his lips and seemingly in an instant the breeze wafted it away so that it disappeared in the rustle of roses and leaves.

But she had heard him.

She felt an irresistible urge to hear him say it again, to hear again to be sure.

His words spoke to the truest part of her, the part that now seemed to be humming in utter happiness. It was a song that longed to fly free, so that the words would flow from her lips and he would hear them – and she knew that he too, would want to hear it again and again.

But perhaps not yet.

Or perhaps, there was a part of him that already knew.

Then Kyouya was leaning close to her once more, his fingers lightly grazing her cheek. She thought she saw herself reflected in his eyes and in that moment felt that she could spend a lifetime gazing into its depths.

This time she knew what was coming.

She knew too, that in that moment, there was nowhere else she'd rather be.

With that one thought Haruhi let herself be drawn once more into the arms of Kyouya Ootori.

* * *

**Author's Note**:

I started writing this chapter more than four years ago, though it has undergone so many changes it's almost unrecognizable from the very first version that was written.

I am aware of the many weaknesses of this story. I'm not perfectly content with how it is now and perhaps there will come a time when I can do a rewrite. But alas, I'd rather end this than let it linger unfinished forever.

Again, I sincerely apologize for the generally _slow_ progress of the story. But I want to thank all of you who read this story. Thank you very much for all the reviews. I can say I have read each and every one of them and have been inspired by them immensely.

Thank you, thank you, thank you very much!


	14. Chapter 14

**Sleeping In**

by Palatyne

**Epilogue**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, _Lala, _English editions to Viz Mediaand the anime to Bones, et. al.

**Author's Note: **I have a feeling some of those who read the previous chapter didn't realize that this story is ending, I may not have been very clear or perhaps author's notes written at the end of the story chapter are just always ignored. _

Anyway, I think the title of this chapter is clear enough.

Again, thank you very, very much to all those who have read and reviewed all these years. Thank you and I hope to hear from you or see your reviews again in some future story.

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

Yoshio Ootori was alone in the smallest of his mansion's several dining rooms. He had decided to take the meal in the more informal of the rooms so as to read the newspaper at his leisure.

He was in the middle of his perusal when quite suddenly the dining room door creaked open and he saw his youngest son walk in.

"You have decided to return?" He asked.

His son bowed formally before speaking.

"As you can see."

"So you now agree to what I asked you, trivial thing that it was."

"Not so trivial since it required your personal attention." As he said the words, the younger Ootori took out from his pocket the plastic key card he had found in his room. He placed it on the table's surface and slid it towards his father. "Most people are loyal only to money."

Yoshio lowered the paper slightly to cast a fleeting glace at the key card. He raised his eyes to his son, betraying his interest.

"So you have succeeded?"

"Not in the manner you wanted." Kyouya replied casually.

"I suppose you are _content _with that?" The elder Ootori's voice held a hint of irritation.

"Very much."

"And Fujioka-san?"

"She is not your concern."

"I am simply curious."

The younger man raised his hand to adjust his glasses. For few seconds his hand lingered, shielding his eyes from view.

Finally he lowered his hand and looked directly at his father. In a voice that was both determined and challenging, he declared his plan.

"I will wait."

Yoshio now placed the paper firmly on the table. He now looked at his son directly. His brows were furrowed in obvious annoyance and his tone was both mocking and incredulous.

"You think you're _in love_ with this girl_?_"

The younger Ootori did not immediately reply.

"Again, not your concern."

"And are you certain she will be yours?"

"I made a promise and I will keep my word."

Quite suddenly, Yoshio Ootori's eyes blazed.

For a few more moments he looked at his son with eyes burning with unspent anger. Yet as soon as it came, the moment of anger vanished.

Yoshio Ootori simply picked up his paper and with an expression of utter boredom, proceeded to direct his attention once more to its pages.

Kyouya's expression betrayed not a hint of surprise at his father's sudden disinterest. It was as if nothing at all had occurred between father and son.

"I will leave you now, Otou-sama. I'm sure you are busy."

Moving to excuse himself, Kyouya bowed low to his father. Yoshio did not look up from his paper nor did he do anything to acknowledge his son.

But he spoke again.

"You may end up waiting for nothing."

"That's a risk I am willing to take." Came a swift reply.

In a voice filled with disdain, Ootori Yoshio delivered his one message to his son.

"You are a fool."

Kyouya remained silent. His expression calm, impervious to his father's taunt. Calmly he bowed once more before turning towards the door.

The soft click of the door closing echoed in the room and the lone man in the room continued to peruse the paper.

Yet unseen by anyone, especially not his son, was the rare smile that graced the older Ootori's face.

And in a tone that was almost inaudible, he muttered.

"A fool, and an Ootori indeed."

* * *

_-fin-_


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